


My Little Star

by SLiverofJade



Category: Original Work
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha Males, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety Attacks, Auctions, Bonding, Captivity, Claiming, Claiming Bites, Comfort/Angst, Control Issues, Dubious Consent, F/M, First Time, Forced Bonding, Forced Relationship, Hand Feeding, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kidnapping, Knotting, Loss of Control, Loss of Virginity, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nesting, Panic Attacks, Praise Kink, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Total Power Exchange
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 02:47:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 32,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9414605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLiverofJade/pseuds/SLiverofJade
Summary: Omega Nova St. Denis has lived in seclusion with her aunt, until she passes away.  Forced to venture off the farm for supplies, she's kidnapped and auctioned off to Isaiah Sterling.  Her new Alpha has dark secrets of his own, entangling them both in the underground Omega slave trade.





	1. Wal-Mart is Hell

            Nova had to keep reminding herself to not hum the _Mission Impossible_ theme song.  Then again, from what she’d seen on www.peopleofwalmart.com, maybe that wouldn’t be so strange.  Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to give a small, polite smile to the security guard at the door.  That same breath came out as a sigh of relief once he gave her a cursory glance and looked away, which meant no risk of an OMBRE, Omegas Missing Broadcast Response Entity, alert… yet.

            She scurried as quickly as she dared to the pharmacy.  The clatter of each item landing in the cart made her wince, but she didn’t waste the time gently setting them in.  The litany of supplies repeated in her mind like a talisman.  Twenty minutes later she had first aid supplies, dry bulk good, fresh fruit, and even a new outfit, including boots, since hers were starting to gap between the sole and the upper.

            Everything was smooth sailing until she got the labyrinthine queue for the two tills that were open at one am on a Thursday night.  It seemed as if she every shopper she managed to avoid thus far wanted to check out at exactly the same time.  They minded their personal space carefully, like good Canadians, leaving measured gaps in the line-up.  Except for the group of teenagers one person behind her.  Blatantly drunk, they were loading up on cheezies, pop, and all the things that growing juveniles need.  And naturally they were led by an Alpha.

            By the time it was her turn for a till, Nova was so irritated by obnoxious youth and their need to loudly proclaim how cool they were with their lewdness, she forgot to be nervous.  Finally free of what had to be the slowest checkout in Wal-Mart history, she strode past the display of missing persons at the exit, not glancing to see if she was on it.

            Trying to hurry for the truck without acting like prey, soon she’d have a shotgun in reach.  But it was too late.  The males had already separated her from the herd.  And even a pack of inexperienced hunters could take down a single, weaker target.

            “Hey, baby,” one drawled right behind her, sending every hair on the back of her neck to prickling.  Ignoring him, Nova struggled to not break into a run.  “Hey, bitch, I’m talking to you.”  A hand reeking of beer grabbed her upper arm.

            “What?”  She tried not to snap or panic.  Young Alphas could turn violent when their fragile egos were bruised, and fear would merely feed the behaviour.  A brow that would’ve done a Cro-Magnon proud furrowed in confusion, possibly brought on by the inconceivable reality of a woman rejecting his charming advances.  The primitive male was a living argument for the stereotype of dumb Alphas.

            “You Omega?  You look Omega.”  He leaned closer for a sniff and chortled, treating her to the barroom floor that was his breath.  “Damn, girl, you is!”

            “Let me go,” she demanded calmly.  Fighting back would only rile him up and she was far more likely to get the worse end of that deal.

            “’Megas don’t give orders, Alphas do.”  His triumphant grin turned leering.  “I think maybe you need some help remembering.”

            “And I think you weren’t saddled with a wealth of intellect.”  One downside to living as a hermit was that one learned a lot of great retorts from books and movies, but lacked the ability to cash the cheques one’s mouth writes, as her mom would say.  The grip on her arm turned painful and he yanked her around to clamp his other hand down hard on her breast.

            “You’re gonna pay for that,” he hissed.  For all the stories and admiration for the grand Alpha ego, it was really a helium balloon, easily destroyed with the merest brush with reality.

            “Do you even listen to yourself?  You sound like a bad action flick.”  While his alcohol-soaked brain parsed what she said, she slammed her knee into the junction at the top of his thighs.  Predictably succumbing to the assault, his stunned cronies stared.  Nova fumbled for her keys, wishing that she had a remote keyfob.  A pair of headlights shone on the tableau as her harassers recovered enough to close in on her.  The odd spotlight felt like a godsend from heaven itself, even if it contained not a single angel.

            “Is there a problem here?”  Oh great, another Alpha.  There was a certain arrogance that expects immediate obedience, give s them away every time.

            “No, sir,” smiled Nova.  “These young men were helping me load up my truck.”

            “Looks like they’ve helped enough.”  The scavengers scattered under the glare of an apex predator.

            “Thank you.”  She turned to her truck again, eager to get home where the nearest neighbor was over a kilometer away.

            “An unclaimed Omega shouldn’t be out alone.”  The newcomer’s voice purred far too close behind her in an eerie echo of the kid earlier.  Were there classes to teach Alphas how to be creeps?

            “M-my mother’s sick,” she stuttered, trying to unlock the door with trembling fingers while keeping him in sight.

            “You’re lying.  I don’t like liars.”  He stepped closer until his leather shoes were nearly side by side with her worn workboots.

            “I’m just going to go now.”  Nova started to open the door when he caught her wrist.  No matter the age, Alphas were all bullies who took what they wanted.

            “How could I call myself an Alpha if I let an unprotected Omega drive alone at night?”  He ignored her struggles and dragged her over to his car where he stuffed her into the backseat.  “Now since you’re likely to misbehave.”  He pulled a syringe from an inner pocket of his jacket and took her arm in an iron grip.

            “No, please, I’ll be good,” she begged, tugging uselessly at his hand.  Ignoring her, he easily removed the safety cap with his teeth, as though he’d had practice.

            “Shh,” he hushed her, expertly injecting the needle into the large vein on the back of her hand and pressing the plunger.  A strange cold flowed through her bloodstream, almost numbing the pressure he put on the miniscule wound.  “You’re going to take a little nap now.”  And she did, despite the adrenaline and fear coursing through her.


	2. Aim to Misbehave

            When she woke, Nova swore it felt like someone had stuffed an old sock in her mouth.  Taking physical stock indicated that she was otherwise untouched.  She still had her clothes, which was no small relief.  Except for her shoes.  A circle of curious, scared faces ringed her vision.  Omegas.  This did not bode well.  Not that being drugged and kidnapped was ever a happy omen, either.

            The gawkers scattered when she said up.  Taking a minute to let the dizziness fade, she took in her environment.  The room was small, barely big enough to squeeze in eight twin beds.  At the far end of the room there was an open archway that led into what appeared to be a locker-room style shower, sink, and presumably toilet.  Bars of fluorescent lighting flickered overhead, the harsh lighting which was foreign to her made her head feel worse.

            At the store, barely looking up from her list or goal, she had a mission on which to focus.  Now feeling surrounded by what were essentially her peers, panic clawed at her throat.  Sensing her fear, they backed off.  Except for one.

            “I’m Chloe Whitman,” she smiled and sat on the bed to her right.  Strawberry blonde hair fell in a straight, silky sheet to her shoulders.  Nova was fascinated by the colour, never having seen it anywhere other than a screen.

            “N-Neva.  St. Louis”  Only at the last minute did she remember to give her fake name.  “Where are we?”

            “Don’t know,” she shook her head, causing Nova to stare some more at the sliding tresses.  “Talia heard something about an auction.”  She glanced over at a brunette who was either afraid and trying to hide it under arrogance.  Or maybe she was constipated.  Nova thought it was the former, but wasn’t 100% certain since she learned her social cues from her aunt and movies.

            “I thought those only happened in bad porn.”  Chloe blinked in shock or offense.  Maybe both?  “Never mind.  How long have you been here?”

            “Day before yesterday, which was Wednesday,” she answered after a glance at a delicate silver wristwatch.  “Talia’s been here the longest.  They took her on Sunday.”

            Nova studied the group.  None appeared to have any injuries, suffering mostly from fear and boredom.  A blonde had joined Talia and they whispered in the corner, glancing her way every so often with narrowed eyes and white lips thinned from being pressed together too tightly.  Evidently the stereotype of non-ironic Omega rivalry wasn’t just a cheap trope to avoid critical analyses of inner-dynamic issues.  Then again, it was an inevitable result of no other options available to an Omega outside of their relationship to an Alpha male.

            “Ugh, your hands are disgusting,” the blonde sneered.  _Because I work with my hands_ , she silently replied.  The girl wouldn’t see that as a strength of character.  Not for an Omega, anyway.

            “You’re welcome.”  The bitch tilted her head blinked in much the same way she’d seen in videos of confused dogs.  Nova opened her eyes wide and tried to remember what an innocent expression looked like.  “Yours look great in comparison to mine.  I’m sure there’ll be a great bidding war at the auction block over your soft hands.  I’m sure your new owner- I mean, Alpha- will be so pleased with the quality of product he’ll tell all his friends to come here and buy other kidnapped girls to rape and Claim.”

            Chloe bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at Madison.  She couldn’t have been more outraged and shocked if Nova had dumped a drink over her head.  After opening her mouth several times in a row like a confused goldfish, she spat, “No one would ever buy you!”

            “That’s because I’m priceless,” Nova retorted calmly.  “Unless you wish to continue this sparring of wits, where you appear to have come woefully unprepared, go and buff your nails for your new Alpha or something.”

 

Reading actors’ facial expressions was much easier than real people Nova discovered.  Theoretically, she that from her extremely limited experiences, but the constant need to compare what she saw against a mental database of emotions was exhausting.  Especially when what she felt was at odds with her eyes.  Talia, for example, would bare her teeth at Nova in what was technically a smile, but something in her gut churned disquietingly whenever the other Omega’s attention was on her.  If it was a movie, the music would give clues as to what Talia truly felt.  She helpfully clarified by being a royal assbutt in order to hide her fear and establish a pecking order.  Just because Nova didn’t always interpret social nuances correctly didn’t mean she was ignorant of basic psychology.

            There wasn’t much to do except sit around and chat, which was an entirely new experience for Nova.  Chloe was from Victoria, visiting relatives in Vancouver after her graduation from an exclusive Omega boarding school.  In other words, they were looking to arrange a mating.  Most of them were kidnapped from the lower mainland, which meant they could be anywhere from Vancouver to Penticton.  Her bet was on the former due to the pool of prospective buyers there and the central location in terms of transportation routes.

            After a couple of hours, a male Beta brought in trays of sandwiches, apples, and bottles of water.  He wasn’t armed.  Shortly after that, the same male came for Nova.  Chloe squeezed her hand and gave her a reassuring smile.  She’d told her that all of them were given physicals, which marginally eased her fears in the short term, but fed the long-term ones.

            The hallway was devoid of windows, as was the room he ushered her into a short distance away.  Thankfully he didn’t speak other than to give her directions.  She didn’t know if she’d react favourably if he tried to make small talk or false reassurances.  Unsurprisingly, this room lacked windows, too.  They were probably underground, which would provide soundproofing and restrict the number of escape routes.

            There was a folding table, folding chair, and what looked like an examination table that appeared to be designed to fold up and be easily portable.  The thin padding was bright pink.  And there were stirrups.  She couldn’t even look at the rolling tray with sinister-looking medical instruments.  Her lunch threatened to make an encore.

            “Strip,” he ordered.  “If you’re not ready for the doc, I’ll do it for you.”  That was incentive if she ever heard it.  Thankfully he left her alone, locking the door behind him, of course.  She folded her clothes and put them on the table for lack of a better place.  The room was chilly, as was the Gynecologist Barbie exam table.  She told herself that she wrapped her arms around her chest for warmth, not because she was scared.  Either they didn’t see the need for a hospital gown or they wanted to see absolutely everything.  She tried not to think about that.

            The doctor who entered without a courtesy knock was female, which she wasn’t sure made the whole affair better or worse because she had to know what was going to happen to them.  The Hippocratic Oath included “do no harm,” but she suspected that the Almighty Dollar won out in this case.  Like the guard, she didn’t try to humanize the ordeal, merely asked questions, writing down the answers on the clipboard she carried, and gave instructions.

            Oh God, she hadn’t been to a doctor’s office since she was a little girl.  One of their- her- neighbours was an Omega specialist who made discreet house calls.  It was still difficult to remember that it was just her now.  In theory, she’d known what to expect from reading stories online, but nothing could have prepared her for a stranger inserting weird metal objects into her most private places and poking around.  That was one of the most uncomfortable and humiliating experiences to which she’d ever been subjected.

            When the incident was blessedly over, the guard came in as the doctor left.  Scrambling into her clothes, Nova seriously revisited her previous abjuration of the shower.  Returning to the other room, she noticed that there was no sentry.  Why pay for more security when the door was thick metal and locked from the outside?

            Shut in again, Nova gestured for the others to join her in the corner farthest from the door.  Curiosity brought even the recalcitrant Talia.

            “There’s one guard at the door,” Nova whispered to the huddle of faces.  “If we surprise him when he comes in with dinner, we grab the keys and run.”

            “An Omega can’t fight a Beta male.”  The protestor was a few years younger than Nova, but certainly not the youngest.  As the eldest, Nova suddenly felt very old as all the girls nodded in accord with the adage they’d all been taught from the cradle.

“He’s unarmed.  There are eight of us.  We don’t even have to knock him out, we just have to be faster than he is and lock him in,” she pointed out in what she hoped was a patient but non-condescending manner.

“I don’t know how to fight,” piped up a blonde who looked about sixteen years old.  More nods. 

“Just smack whatever piece of him you can,” she instructed.  “Especially between the legs.  We can do this, but we all have to be on board.  Are you with me?”  Chloe was the first to vote, followed by faintly reluctant nods as each girl looked to make sure she wasn’t the only one in agreement.  Nova started to feel like she was surrounded by those bobble head toys. 

“You’re not like other Omegas,” Chloe said almost wistfully when they’d dispersed.  Rather than launch into a dissertation on nature versus nurture and their shared dynamic, Nova squeezed her hand instead.

“Bravery doesn’t mean not feeling fear.  It means you do what’s necessary in spite of it.”  Geez, her first interactions with her peers and she fell back on quotes.  Some days she wondered if there was anything to her personality that didn’t originate from literature or pop culture.

“Really?” she asked hopefully.  The younger girl had never heard that before?  Good Lord, someone get the girl an e-reader stocked with something other than romances, stat.

Nova killed time and hid her nerves by doing sit-ups, push-ups, and jumping jacks, earning stares that varied from puzzlement to derision, the latter being from Talia, of course.  Health magazines, articles, and online forums often cautioned Omegas against getting too muscular.  Escaping from the gawking, she braved the creepy shower area.  It was colder than she liked and she felt far too exposed.  She’d skinny dipped in the river that ran through her property, but there was no one around but Aunt Erica and the chickens to see her.  At least the body products were decent and without cloying perfumes.

            The sound of the door opening sent Nova’s heart flying into her throat and her stomach flip-flopping.  She darted forward and sucker punched the guard in the solar plexus, his breath leaving him in a satisfying gasp.  Food spilled everywhere as he doubled over.  She nearly went for his shin next, forgetting that they took her shoes, probably to prevent this very situation.  Considering her next move, he took advantage of the hesitation and backhanded her across the face.  Pain blossomed in her right cheek to spread across that hemisphere of her face.  Salty blood coated her tongue from a split lip.  Dazed, she stumbled backward and sank onto the nearest cot.  The guard smirked at her and left.  The attempted coup had lasted less than thirty seconds.

            Chloe came from the bathroom and saw what had happened.  Her hair, now a deep copper, hung in wet tendrils around her stricken face.  She darted back in and brought out a damp washcloth, which she pressed against the cut in Nova’s lip.  “I’m so sorry, I was in the shower.”

            “That will look great for the Alphas,” Talia snickered.  “But thanks for ruining dinner.”  The bananas and water bottles were still fine, although no one seemed to have much of an appetite.

            She really should have seen it coming.  Classic betrayal of the outcast who didn’t acknowledge her leadership combined with herd mentality.  She wondered how Talia would react if she pointed out that her need for control was decidedly an antithesis of the perfect Omega that she styled herself as.  Then she thought that Talia would probably need a dictionary to look up “antithesis.”

            If this crop of girls was the result of the best Omega schools, the education system was in even more dire need of an overhaul than she’d thought.  Then again, critical thinking meant that there would be other opportunities available other than homemakers and broodmares.  Then who would cater to the egos of the Alphas?


	3. Ain't Nothin' but Mammals

Perhaps an hour after the ignominious defeat, Guard brought in several dresses, high heels, and a case full of beauty supplies while another male in a suit watched from the door with a particularly hard glower for Nova.  Evidently, they weren’t trusted after the mutiny, pathetic as it was.  He set the stuff on a bed and gave orders to “get ready.”

Waiting for the feeding frenzy over the clothes to die down, Nova took the white spandex dress that was left, if it could even be called that since it barely covered her ass.  The thin material was translucent enough to show to everyone her pomegranate coloured bra and purple panties.  She was not about to go commando and prove that her hair was naturally black.  Besides, the vibrant tones would bring out her bruise beautifully.

The shoes she surmised were, in fact, torture devices designed for the feet, and left them for the last possible minute.  She watched the others do each other’s makeup due to lack of a mirror, and wondered how many Omegas the brushes and tools had seen and their questionable state of hygiene. 

“Aren’t you going to do your makeup?” Chloe asked as she helped Sophia, the teen who’d worried that she didn’t know how to fight, with her eyeshadow.  Nova didn’t begrudge her, her fear that allowed Talia to sway her.

“Never worn it before.  Besides, it’s not like anything’s going to cover this up,” shrugged Nova, gesturing to her face.  The redhead’s hazel eyes narrowed, which probably scared her more than the inevitability of breaking her ankle in those damned heels.

“Challenge accepted.”  The fierce determination from the kind Omega made her want to back away slowly, so she sat quietly while she finished with the adolescent, thinking that maybe her early suppositions about the passivity of her fellow captives were incorrect.

 

Isaiah’s skin crawled.  And it wasn’t simply because he was in a room full of Alphas, several of which he knew through business dealings, but the horrific nature of the event about to take place.  At least he managed to refrain from growling at the obsequious Beta male extolling the virtues of the “product” soon to be presented.

“Peter, have you offered our newest client any refreshment?”  The cold, almost silver, blue eyes appeared out of place in the otherwise welcoming face that approached.  Isaiah remained silent, allowing the host to engage the older man so he could watch their interaction.  The younger deferred to the Alpha more than his Beta dynamic called for.  A financier perhaps?

He wore the uniform of most of the attendees, Isaiah himself included: well-tailored, designer suit.  There were the usual introductions, handshake overly firm.  Always a sign of a person with something to prove.  Charles St. Denis?  The CEO of the Laurier Financial Group?  Undoubtedly the backer.  Apparently, the dark rumours of the man’s past were founded in reality if he was involved with this “venture.”  He swallowed his disgust with a chaser of bourbon.

“Sterling, eh?” St. Denis rolled the name over his tongue, pretending to search his memory.  His own dirty laundry was far more recent and was not that difficult to recollect.  “Should I assume you’ll be a repeat customer?”  Isaiah was overwhelmed with the desire to slam the other Alpha to the floor and pound his smug face into paste.

“Krause has been telling me I’ve been insufferable to work with.”  Gesturing to a male across the room, Sterling affected boredom.  “I let him drag me here, though I’m really not in the market.”

“I imagine you’ll change your mind.  I hear there’s one in the current batch that might not sell.  Perhaps you and Zhang here could work something out with the surplus stock,” suggested St. Denis.  Isaiah hid his murderous glare behind his bourbon as though he were taking the time to consider such an enterprise.

“We’re just about to start.  If you’ll excuse me, gentleman.”  Despite his polite tone, Zhang’s eyes were calculating, as though he were appraising the potential of St. Denis’ proposal.

After the smaller man took his leave, the slimy bastard invited Sterling to sit with him in the front row, dispensing advice on how to appraise the merchandise.  He had no choice but to grit his teeth and play along when he wanted nothing more than to coat the walls and plate glass of this spacious office boardroom with the blood of his fellow bidders.

 

            The Guard and Suit came and the stink of fear in the room suddenly ratcheted up to eleven.  Guard approached Nova with a leer and pulled a pair of handcuffs from his pocket.  They were fleece-lined so as not to mar her delicate skin further.  Stiffly, she held her hands out, but he gestured for her to place them behind her back.  Choking back tears, she bit the inside of her lip and did as she was told.  Getting into another ill-fated scuffle would only end up with her getting hurt, or worse.

            Guard and Suit herded them down the hallway, into an elevator, and to an upper level.  Chloe linked arms with Nova to keep her from faceplanting.  She had actually succeeded in her quest to cover up the bruise, although there was nothing to be done about the swelling or her split lip.  They stopped in what appeared to be an office.  This one seemed to be in use as an office, and not one for a doctor.

            “Now some of you may be thinking to avoid being sold by showing attitude and misbehaviour,” the Suit said with a pointed looked at Nova.  “Allow me to disabuse you of that notion.  No one makes it to auction a second time.”  His voice went dark with the implied threat, using their worst imaginations to keep them in line.  And it worked.

            They were to go out when they were called (by dress colour, not name), slowly turn in place, remain silent, and avoid eye contact unless told otherwise.

 

            Nova crept out, teetering since she’d never worn high heels before.  Titters rippled through the crowd when they took in her battered face and cuffs.  Her face burned because between the ridiculous shoes and arms bound behind her back her butt was thrust outward and her chest forward.

            She ignored the auctioneer’s descriptions of her attributes and health, turning in tiny increments as instructed so the buyers could “get a look at the goods.”  The body language was acceptable, but her expression showed all the anger and contempt she bore for everyone involved in this meat market.  A fog settled in her mind, distancing her from the proceedings, not even noting the amount of the one and only bid.

            “I knew you’d change your mind,” St. Denis clapped him on the back with a hearty chuckle as his brand-new Omega was ushered away and the next one brought in.  It took all of Isaiah’s willpower to not break every bone in the hand that touched him and sit through the rest of the abhorrent proceedings.

            Nova waited numbly, still in her handcuffs, unsure whether to feel grateful that she’d just been “purchased.”  She didn’t let herself feel much of anything for fear she’d panic or have a breakdown.  She broke the rules only once to look him in the eye when he made the bid.  At least he was young, no more than thirty at most, which wasn’t necessarily comforting if he had problems finding an Omega in the usual ways.

            Wanting nothing more than to grab the girl and go, Isaiah suffered through the paperwork confirming that he accepted “stewardship” of an “abandoned Omega,” all of which was highly falsified, of course.  She waited to one side, hands clasped in front as though to hide her vivid panties.  The fire in her grey eyes when she’d looked at him had ebbed to a distant disdain as she ignored everyone else in the room.  At least the tacky cuffs were removed.  He wasn’t certain if his estate was escape-proof, which she would no doubt attempt.  An oversight on his part in his haste.  While the file was prepared, he texted instructions to his assistant, who’d most likely blow a gasket.  He grinned at the thought.

            “Here is a copy of her identification, medical report, and your notarized certificate of stewardship, Mr. Sterling,” the distasteful Beta administrator finally announced.  He accepted the folder, coolly avoiding the man’s attempt at a handshake by tucking the girl’s hand in the crook of his elbow.  Her hands were callused as though she were accustomed to working with them.  Who’d ever heard of an Omega doing physical labour, other than housework?  A manicure and stylist were definitely in order, as well as clothing, prompting another flurry of texts.

            What was her name again?  Nina?  A quick glance reminded him: Neva St. Louis.  Neva didn’t pull away from him, probably because she could barely clomp along next to him in those stilettos.  Nor did she say anything when he deposited her in the passenger seat of his Alpha model Bugatti Chiron, although she did buckle herself in.  He was responding to incoming texts as he crossed the Iron Worker’s Bridge into North Van when she made the first noise he’d heard from her.

            “What was that?”

            “You shouldn’t text and drive,” she repeated with the merest hint of reproach.  Isaiah swerved to the side of the road amidst the blaring horns of irritated drivers in his wake.  He turned with one hand behind the passenger headrest.

            “Let’s get one thing straight from the start, little one.”  The mask of the cool, detached businessman was gone to reveal the sharp blade underneath.  She shrank slightly against the door, which was inches away from the cement guardrail, making flight impossible.  “You do not criticize me or any other Alpha.  Do you understand?”  She nodded with wide eyes.  “Say it.”

            “I understand.”  He arched a brow as though waiting for something more, but for the life of her she couldn’t think of what.

            “My name is Isaiah Sterling.  You will address me as ‘sir’ or ‘Alpha’,” he directed with overt patience.

            “I understand, Alpha.”  The words were poison on her tongue.  Ultimately, they cost her nothing but pride, yet were worth it if they appeased him and therefore kept her safe.

            “Good girl.”  He awarded her a brief smile before turning to merge into traffic.  Gorge rose at the warmth that suffused her at his praise and dominance.  It was biology, chemicals, she didn’t actually want to please him, she told herself.  She had no control over the tingling between her legs.

            Everything she’d ever read by other Omegas waxed poetic on the delicious masculinity of an Alpha’s musk.  She’d always thought such descriptions were hyperbole.  Now that she was trapped in a confined space with one she knew better.  His scent grew absolutely mouth-watering when he snapped at her.  Instincts dictated she bare her throat in submission.  She settled for hunching in on herself and breathed through her mouth in a flimsy effort to minimize his effect on her.  For the rest of the agonizingly long trip, she reminded herself that she’d do whatever was necessary to survive and try not hate herself for it.


	4. Not Her First Rodeo

A fence ran the perimeter of the property with a gate controlled via a four-digit code punched into the keypad below the speaker.  Nova couldn’t see what it was without being conspicuous.  The house, or mansion would be more appropriate, was classic brick, and thankfully not the sterile glass and angular lines of modern architecture that she hated.

            Sterling parked the ostentatious sports car next to a luxury sedan and she nervously got out.  He waited for her at the front of the car with an offered arm, which she took for both much needed balance and so as not to offend.  The door to the house opened as they approached, causing her to jump.

            “This is Rashad,” Sterling said by way of introduction.  “He’ll show you to your room.”

            “Omega.”  The Beta inclined his head a fraction and motioned for her to follow him.  Ridiculous as it was, Nova felt more nervous about being alone with a strange Beta than she was with the strict Alpha who’d just bought her.  Isaiah gave her an unyielding look and she meekly followed Rashad.  Dismissing the situation of acquiring an unexpected Omega, he went to his office to compose a report for his handlers.

            The suite was comfortable and obviously unoccupied.  She was beyond relieved that it didn’t appear that she was expected to share a bed with him.  At least not yet, anyway.  As long as she didn’t look at the decorative wrought iron screen welded outside the windows, she could imagine herself on vacation in a fancy hotel.  Not that she’d ever been on vacation or in a hotel of any kind.

            “Thank you.”  Nova hesitated, unsure if she was supposed to address him as “sir,” “Beta,” or anything.

            “You may call me Rashad,” he smiled, picking up on her nervousness.  “Mr. Sterling has arranged for a personal shopper tomorrow morning.  For now, I hope that this will suffice.”  He gestured to an indigo satin nightgown and matching robe hanging off the door to a walk-in closet.  She tried not to wonder why they’d have random women’s lingerie on hand.  Then she realized that if he was shopping for a female, he would have had at least a few items on hand.

            “Good night, Omega.”  And like that, she was alone. 

First order of business was to lock the door.  She held no delusions that it would keep anyone out for long, but it made her feel better.  Then a thorough scrubbing in the bathroom to remove the makeup.  Kind of a shame, really, because she’d never look that good again.  Chloe truly had done a fabulous job.  A pang stabbed her heart when she realized she would probably never again see the only friend she’d ever made.  She reminded herself that the redhead was the epitome of the perfect Omega, and had to believe that she went home with a good Alpha.  Then again, no Alpha who would go there could be considered “good,” maybe not a complete and utter dick-weasel was the best she could hope for.

The auction dress went in the hamper, although she’d never wear it again of her own volition.  As slinky as the nightgown was, it fell to her knees and only showed a touch more cleavage than she’d be comfortable allowing anyone to see.

            After brushing her teeth with the new toothbrush and toothpaste set out for her, there was nothing left to do but try to sleep.  Regretfully looking at the pillowtop mattress, she stripped the bed to form a nest in the walk-in closet, which also locked from the inside.  Only then did she break down into tears.

 

            “Sir, what is that young woman doing here?” Rashad asked through gritted teeth after he entered Isaiah’s office and closed the door carefully behind him.

            “I bought her,” Sterling replied with an edge in his voice that warned his employee to tread carefully.  He didn’t look up from the file spread out on his desk in front of him.

            “Have you taken leave of your senses?”  His tone was bland, though his flashing black eyes were anything but.

            “You saw her.  No one was going to buy her,” he growled.  “And you know what happens to those not sold.”  The fight seemed to drain out of the smaller man, leaving him tired.  Any decent person’s stomach would churn like his was at the prospect of a shortened life pumped full of drugs to keep them complacent as Omega females were raped into a slow death.

            “I will help you if you swear to me that this will not be like last time, that you will treat her far better.”  No matter how Rashad might question his Alpha, or how angry he became, he never spoke the forbidden name.

            “I swear on Lyssa’s memory I won’t make the same mistakes,” vowed Isaiah, meeting the full recriminations of Rashad’s gaze.  The hard line of his jaw, however, indicated that it was the end of that particular discussion.

            “Have you considered how you’ll explain your attendance at future events?” he asked.

            “I already have a reputation,” Sterling said bitterly.  “I’ll say she didn’t fare well.  After all, they’ll appreciate a repeat customer.  They all but offered to sell me the ‘surplus’.”  Both men grimaced at the callous euphemism.

            “And what will Agent Miller think of this development?”

            “He need never know.”

 

            Rashad’s black brows furrowed when there was still no answer after the third knock.  Testing the doorknob proved his suspicion.  From his pants pocket he drew the key he brought in anticipation and entered the room, announcing himself.  The bed was empty, devoid even of linens.

            “Omega?” he called towards the closet, remaining near the door.  A few muffled thumps and grumps later, she appeared in the archway between the closet and bathroom, clutching the robe tightly closed at her neck.  Her heart-shaped face was pink and puffy from crying, the distress only confirmed by the sour taint that permeated the suite.

            “Thank you.”  She eyed the tray he carried, belatedly tacking on his name.  Setting the tray on the desk, he swallowed a smile at the tangle of bed hair to which she seemed oblivious.

            “I thought you might prefer to eat in private this morning.”  Nova wondered if she was still dreaming.  The locked doors were respected until it was probably apparent that she wasn’t answering, being ensconced in the closet where she couldn’t hear much of anything.  Then she wasn’t expected to traipse around half-naked.  Her confusion dissipated at the smell of tea, which she immediately doctored with sugar and a little pitcher of cream before sinking into the warm hug of the first sip.  It was black loose leaf.  Sterling could storm in there and scream at her right then and she wouldn’t have cared because she had tea.

            “Thank you.”  Nova was starting to feel like one of those talking dolls, only having spoken to Rashad to thank him.  “Last night, you said something about a personal shopper?”  At least it didn’t seem she’d be kept nude like in some of the Alpha/Omega fiction she was familiar with, all romances, of course.  She supposed it was a sexy concept to some, but cold in all likelihood.

            “Ms. Overstreet has an appointment with you and Mr. Sterling at nine,” he answered.  She hid her disappointment behind her teacup.  She couldn’t afford to let him see her dismay at seeing the Alpha.  As friendly as he was, it was obvious where Rashad’s loyalties lay.  And it wasn’t like she could put off seeing him indefinitely.

 

            Amelia Overstreet was a vivacious Beta who seemed flummoxed that another female didn’t much care about what she wore, not even whether it pleased her Alpha.  Nova was used to either shopping online or her aunt buying clothing for her because she hadn’t really been able to leave the farm.  And she was well aware of the fact that if it weren’t for a necessary trip, she wouldn’t be in her current situation.  Her only enthusiasm was at the prospect of having clothes again.

            As for preferences, she said shrugged and said comfortable, breathable, and no pink.  She didn’t think she’d ever be able to look at the colour again without associating it with that horrific examination.  The elegant brunette looked to Sterling in appeal, who startled Nova when he said the first words he had since they’d sat down in the living room.

            “Jewel tones, low heels.”  She wasn’t sure if that was because he’d noticed she walked like a new-born calf in high heels or if he preferred his women short.  Considering he was over a foot taller than her, a few inches wouldn’t make much difference, anyway.

            After that, Amelia had her remove the robe so she could take measurements.  Nova turned away from Sterling to avoid showing him her cleavage or her nipples that turned perky against the cool satin, which did nothing to hide them.  The other woman cooed the usual compliments for Omegas, focusing on the size of breast and hips, indicators of ease in breeding.  She felt like she was back on the auction block.  She wondered why Sterling didn’t give Amelia the measurements taken before the auction.  Either he didn’t remember seeing them in the file, was reluctant to admit where he’d “acquired” her, or wanted to see her humiliated.  She tried not to snatch the robe out of the Beta’s hands when she held it up to help her don it again.

            “I’ll be back by noon with enough to get her through the next few days.  By then I’ll have a sufficient wardrobe for your Omega for the season,” she said to Sterling as she made some final notes.

            Nova crept back upstairs to her room while Sterling showed Amelia to the front door.  She locked herself in her closet nest in the dark again and tried to think of escape plans.  First, she needed to lull them into a false sense of complacency.  She’d already laid the groundwork for that by being blank and meek.  Well, meek for her anyway, if not for most Omegas.  Never having met another, she only had books, movies, and the internet to go off of.

 

            “Now where is she?”  Isaiah frowned when he realized the little female had disappeared.

            “She’s probably locked herself in the closet again,” answered Rashad from the hallway.

            “Why would she do that?”  The other man simply gave him a look that said he was being obtuse.  “She’s nesting?  Already?”  The file was vague when it came to her cycle, referencing an obscure form of heat suppressants, so there was no estimate of when to expect it.

            “Comfort nesting,” the Beta shook his head, then sighed when he realized he had to spell it out for his employer.  “The girl was sold at auction like a piece of horseflesh or an objet d’art.  Now she’s completely at the mercy of a stranger who has total control over every aspect of her life, upon whom she’s dependent even for food and clothes.”

            “That shouldn’t be unusual,” Sterling frowned.  “She’s Omega, her whole life must have been similar.”

            “I doubt that,” he disagreed.  “She seems to have spent a lot of time outdoors, but lacks social finesse.  She must’ve been largely independent and somewhere rural, particularly if she’s still a virgin.”  Almost unheard of for an Omega in her early twenties, Rashad had thought when he read her file.

            “How would that be possible?” Isaiah wondered.  Heat suppressants weren’t totally effective and she couldn’t have been completely isolated.  If there were more like her where she came from, then they were potential prey for St. Denis’ outfit.

 

            This was supposed to be enough clothes to get her through a few days?  Two dresses, one that she supposed classified as a little black dress and the other certainly not something she’d have worn on the farm with its floral pattern and flared hem.  Leggings, jeans, slacks and a skirt along with a variety of shirts and cardigans.  She was bemused by the shoes since she doubted they’d ever allow her off the grounds, then again, they were designed for appearance and not for actual walking.  If she tried to hoof it out of there, she’d likely twist an ankle after a kilometer or two.

Then there was the underwear which was certainly nothing her mother would ever have picked up for her.  Amelia obviously had an audience in mind when she selected them, and it wasn’t Nova.  At least the lace wasn’t itchy.  She was just grateful that the nightgowns were more in keeping with the style of the one she still wore rather than something that could have graced the pages of Playboy.

            The worst part of it all was that she had to model every piece of clothing, although thankfully not the lingerie, for Amelia’s and Sterling’s approval.  The former gave advice on layering, pairing, and accessories, which came in a tasteful wood box with drawers and hooks behind a pair of little doors.  The latter, sitting in the chair at the desk, gave no input, apparently more focused on his phone.  Not that she blamed him.  She’d rather be playing Plants vs. Zombies, too.  At least Amelia didn’t look too pained when Nova screwed up the courage to request more jeans, t-shirts, and yoga pants.  Better yet, the Alpha didn’t look up from his phone.  With that minor success, she decided to test her luck.

            “I was wondering if there was something else you could find,” she said softly as Amelia helped zip her into the black dress.  The older woman’s face lit up with curiosity at what could only be whispered behind the closed door of the walk-in closet.  Nova remade the bed earlier to avoid awkward questions.  “I need Heat suppressants.”

            Amelia immediately frowned.  “I am going to pretend that I didn’t hear that for both our sakes,” she whispered as she helped the smaller woman into the matching shoes that she’d called kitten heels.

            “Why not?” she asked, voice thick with threatened tears.

            “What I’m going to tell you isn’t meant to scare you.”  The Beta woman rose and gently took Nova’s rough hands in her own slender ones.  “But you deserve to know.”  An icy pit formed in her stomach.  “You’re not the first Omega for whom I’ve performed this service for Mr. Sterling.”  The pit widened to swallow her whole.  “Don’t go out there smelling of fear,” Amelia cautioned.  “If he asks, tell him you thought you saw a spider.”

            “A spider?”  The farm was rife with them.  If she panicked every time she saw an arachnid, she’d never get anything done.

            “Trust me, it’ll work.”  Then there was no more time for talk as Amelia opened the door.  All compliments fell on deaf ears because all Nova could hear was “You’re not the first.”


	5. Barefoot in the Kitchen

 

            Now that the Omega had clothes, she dared venture out of her suite, creeping on bare feet like a ghost, drifting away at the slightest chance she might encounter Rashad or Sterling.  Rashad kept an eye on her from a distance as he went about his duties, until she approached the kitchen.

            “Are you hungry, Omega?”  He scuffed his feet before he spoke so as not to startle her.

            “Thirsty.”  She avoided eye contact, intently watching his body language for early warnings of violence.  Once again, bile rose in his throat at the practice of selling humans like property.

            “Water?  Or something harder, say orange juice?” he smiled as he led the way inside his domain.

            “Got any vodka?” she asked with a half-smile.  Rashad blinked.  As a general rule, Omegas couldn’t handle liquor and were at a significantly higher risk of alcohol poisoning. 

“I believe there’s some champagne,” he said to test the waters.

“I’m kidding.  Mostly.”  The last was under her breath.  Motioning for her to sit at one of the stools at his island workstation, which was on the opposite side of where the knife block was, he contemplated where he could hide the knives while still having access to them.  First angling the chair to keep the doorway in sight, she sat cross-legged and watched him with that impassive grey gaze.  To fill the unnerving silence as he poured the juice, Rashad told her the dinner menu, hand-stuffed ravioli in a rosé sauce with roasted asparagus.

“It’s a rare man who enjoys cooking,” she commented when he pulled up a stool and a glass of his own.

“I like to eat,” he laughed.  “My mom always told me that everyone belongs in the kitchen, it’s where the food is.”  She chuckled softly.  “Do I need to worry about encroachment on my territory?”

The female forgot and looked up to meet his eyes before snapping her head away.  “I can’t cook much, but I like to bake.”  Ragged fingernails drew designs on the condensation of her glass.

“Then I suppose we should all be grateful you won’t be expected to cook.”  She relaxed infinitesimally at the mild teasing.  Poor thing was probably expecting to have to cook and clean.  Although in his opinion, a life of empty leisure was a worse fate.

“The garden seems lovely.”  She nodded towards the window overlooking the back.  “Do you grow your own herbs?”

“Of course.”  He couldn’t help but puff up with pride at the patch he’d wrestled away from the lawn maintenance crew.  Overcoming a naturally black thumb was worth some bragging.

“Really?  I’d love to see it.  I used to have a little farm.”  The neat efficiency of the grounds would probably bore her to tears, but if she wanted, he could perhaps carve out another chunk for her.

“You’re barefoot,” he pointed out.

“So?”  Her naturally perfectly arched brows furrowed in confusion.

“I would hate to have to clean mud off the floors.” Nova’s expression closed to blankness again when she understood the meaning behind his words.  She was an investment to be protected, even from possible nicks from rocks.  Even if she was going to be knocked up, at least she wasn’t going to be barefoot and in the kitchen, she thought bitterly.

“What do you grow?”  She let him go on about the usual herbs like basil, rosemary, and thyme.  “I make, er, used to make a tea from herbs in my garden every night to help me sleep.  Would you pick some up for me please if I gave you a list?”  Rashad’s suspicions were aroused, though he couldn’t put his finger on any particular reason why.

“I think there’s some chamomile around here.”  He rose to search, but a small, cold hand on his arm brought him up short.  Looking down at their contact, she blushed and removed her hand, belatedly remembering the taboos regarding touching Omegas.  Especially one who belonged to an Alpha.

“It’s pretty severe insomnia.  Chamomile won’t even make me yawn,” she explained.  Instincts still prickling, he found the pad of paper and pen he kept for groceries and took the list she wrote out.  When she retreated to her room again, he Googled the herbs and their properties.

 

“Another bloody auction next weekend,” Sterling growled at Rashad as he stowed his golf bag in the closet off the garage.  “Where the hell are they finding all these girls?”

“If I’m not mistaken, Agent Miller conscripted you to find that answer,” he said dryly.

“Strange, I always thought it was because he’s a bastard.”  Isaiah scrubbed tiredly at his face.  His employee didn’t disagree with the crass characterization.  “She hasn’t said anything about where she was taken from?”

“Just that she lived on a small farm.”  The Alpha groaned as he walked into the kitchen for some ice water.  “She has, however, asked for something you should be aware of.”  Vivid green eyes narrowed shrewdly, he set down his drink to focus on Rashad.  Being on the receiving end of an intent Alpha would rattle most Betas, but the two had been friends for so long that it barely had an effect.  “Specific herbs, all known to suppress Heat cycles.”

“Long-term side effects?”  He was silent for so long, Sterling thought he wouldn’t answer.

“Remote chance of sterility.”

“No, absolutely not.”  The repressed fury in Isaiah’s force and the restrained violence in his massive form made the Beta flinch, hiding the reaction in wiping down the counters.  Yet he had to steel himself.

“Do you intend to mate her?”

“Of course not!” he snapped.  God knew that he wanted to, but he couldn’t risk bonding with another Omega ever again.  And having one soft and pliable under him was too great of a temptation as last time proved.

“Then she’ll need Heat suppressants,” persisted Rashad. 

“Questions will be raised if we try to obtain them.”  Questions which would inevitably bring Miller calling and neither of them would trust anything black market.

“So, you mean for her to suffer through her Heat alone?”

“No, I-”  Sterling ran a hand roughly through his short, chocolate brown hair in frustration.  “I don’t know.

“You need to figure it out soon.”  Rashad was dangerously bordering on scolding.

“Of course, while I continue to run the Canadian arm of an international energy company and solve a case for CSIS,” he glared.  “But no suppressants.”

“Understood.”  The Beta triumphantly retreated after sufficiently riling the lion.


	6. Dareth shiral

            To her dismay, Nova was expected to join the Alpha for dinner.  Which was ridiculous because she knew she couldn’t keep avoiding him.  At first, she didn’t want to bother with her hair, makeup, or any of the stuff Amelia bought her.  But there was no sense in potentially angering him unnecessarily, and if he thought she didn’t appreciate what he provided, she might be denied things in the future.  At least that was one of the recommended conditioning methods she’d read about on one of the more odious Alpha male websites.  In the end, she put on some face paint, trying to remember what Chloe did and fighting back tears at the thought of her friend.

            Rashad had run an errand that afternoon, and he didn’t say anything about the ingredients she used in her herbal Heat suppressant.  Either he couldn’t find them, or more likely he researched them and discovered what they did.  At least he didn’t tell his boss because she didn’t have an angry Alpha to deal with, which most certainly would have been the case had he known.  Unless he did know and was waiting to punish her when her cycle did come.  She could go mad trying to anticipate every possibility.

            The three of them sat at a table on the flagstone patio off the back of the house.  She wasn’t sure if Rashad usually ate with his boss, or if he wanted to put her at ease.  Either way, she was grateful to not be alone with the larger man.  As it was, she couldn’t eat for the churning in her stomach or a mouth dry as the Gobi.  Poor Rashad did his best to fill the uncomfortable silence, realizing that his companions weren’t going to participate in conversation.  Though he still tried.

            Nova used the opportunity to study the Alpha from the corner of her eye.  Impossibly green eyes, like two chips of British Columbian jade, warmed with amusement at Rashad’s story involving too many drinks and something called music bingo.  His hair looked silky soft and of a shade nearly as dark as her own.  Clean-shaven, he had a strong jawline to match the rest of his hard figure.  Unquestionably handsome, he was not delicate enough to ever be considered pretty.  His shoulders were impressively wide and suited his six-and-a-half-foot tall frame.  The way his forearms shifted below the rolled-up sleeves of his navy blue button-down made her wonder what it would feel like to be under that huge, muscular body.

            “You should eat.”  Sterling frowned at her untouched pasta.  Nova suddenly felt the disorienting sensation of being pulled in two different directions at once.  The primal part of her that never knew civilized society wanted desperately to obey an Alpha’s command.  The rest of her brain dug its heels in.  Her stomach went on strike at the internal discord.  Mumbling an “excuse me,” she dashed for her bathroom.

            “Congratulations, now she’s lost the few bites she did manage to eat,” scowled Rashad.

            “What was I supposed to do?  Let her starve?” Isaiah sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

            “Maybe talk to her instead of barking orders?” his best and only friend suggested wryly.

            “She’s Omega, they’re built for taking orders,” he said dismissively.  Lyssa had never had problems with his commands.  And yet the part of him that kept him in constant torment reminded him where she was now.

            “Obviously, she’s not used to it,” the Beta pointed out.  “Try talking to her like you would me.”

            “I doubt she’d agree to picking up my dry-cleaning.”  Rashad laughed at the arch response.  Moreover, as much as his friend would enjoy it, Isaiah had no desire to pin him to a mattress and fuck him until he couldn’t walk.  The thought of taking her violently made him hard.  Which made him more irritated.  He shouldn’t have been so hasty to proclaim that he would deny both their natures by leaving her untouched.  He’d already destroyed one Omega and was well on his way to another.  The table rocked as he stood abruptly.

            “No.”  Rashad stood to block his path.  “I won’t let you go to her like this.”

            “I’m going out.”  Flashes of red sparked in his green eyes, meaning he was dangerously close to going feral.  If Sterling was truly feral at that point, there was nothing the smaller male could do to stop him.

 

            Nova heard the rumble of a high-powered engine leave the driveway.  Wonderful, now she’d driven him off.  The stupid hindbrain paced and fretted at the loss of what it was already coming to think of as her Alpha.  She had to swallow back more bile.  Freud would have a field day with her instincts and rational half fighting.  Come to think of it, the old quack would tell her that her higher brain was false, brought on by Alpha envy, which really stemmed from the need for an Alpha’s guidance.  Screw him and his Neanderthal views of Omegas.

            Footsteps, which must have been Rashad’s, padded down the hallway and soon she heard what sounded like a video game, or so she assumed from the colourful curses emanating from his room.  Sterling was out, Rashad was occupied in a noisy pastime, perfect for snooping around the spacious house.

            The house had a pool in the basement, and a home theatre, but didn’t have a landline.  Both men presumably relied on their cellphones.  The only desktop computer she found was in the Alpha’s office, which was one domain she was not about to breach for fear of rousing his wrath if he smelled her scent there.  His tablet left on the living room coffee table was fingerprint encoded and she didn’t dare risk alerting him by failing to guess his password.  Not that she had anyone to contact.  The police wouldn’t help, their general policy was to avoid “interfering” in Alpha/Omega relationships.  Without cash, there was only one way of getting out of there.  Nova wandered to Rashad’s room, which wasn’t difficult to find because the door was open.

            “What are you playing?”  Like the rest of the house, his bedroom was neat, save for the cluster of soda cans on his desk.  She averted her eyes from the firemen calendar on the wall.  In dragging her gaze away, she saw a set of keys next to a wallet on the dresser.

            “Huh?”  Rashad pulled his headphones off and looked up from his computer, the cool glow of the monitor made his honey dark skin look sickly.  “Sorry, was I loud?”

            “Not really, wondering why you’re shouting ‘take ‘effing cock you ‘effing cocksuckers like yo’ mama taught you’.”  Normally she didn’t have an issue with four letter words, but for some reason she couldn’t contemplate saying that particular phrase to Rashad without turning red.  She sidled closer under the pretext of getting a view of the screen and thus closer to her goal.

            “If you promise not to tell Sterling I said that where you could hear, I will make you crepes for breakfast,” he said with calculating wariness.

            “Hmm.”  She leaned a hip against the dresser and drummed her fingernails against the dark wood, pretending to contemplate his offer.  “Add raspberries on top and throw in thick-cut bacon on the side, none of that watered stuff in the plastic packages, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”  They shook on it.  “Now what on earth is this?”

           “This,” he said grandly, “is Dragon Age.”  She pretended to listen as he jabbered on about the game, slipping his wallet in her back pocket.  Then eased the keys closer and closer to avoid jingling.  Finally closing her fist around them at about the point where she could listen no more, she shoved her hands in her pockets, bid him good-night, and beat a hasty retreat.  The headset was back on before she’d left the room.


	7. Scylla and Charybdis

            Nova waited with her heart in her throat until two am.  She slipped into the garage with the keys she stole from Rashad room and quickly adjusted the seat and mirrors before starting his Audi.  Praying to anyone who would listen that the garage door wouldn’t wake anyone, she thanked her lucky stars when the main gate didn’t require a code to exit.  Whispering a praise for technology, the on-board navigation got her easily enough to the Trans-Can. 

            Driving at highway speeds was still nerve-wracking, white-knuckling it the whole way.  She was slowing down to move over for a broken-down car with its flashers on just past Ikea when red and blue lights flashed in the rear-view.  Freezing in panic, she took too long checking her blind spot, which full of a semi.  Her heart sank and left her numb as she pulled over.

            The officer, a Beta male, was kind.  At least his tone was because she never fully heard the words.  The grey fuzz that protected her during the auction wrapped around her again.  He locked her in the back of his squad car, but didn’t handcuff her.  Time passed in fits and jumps while they waited for the tow truck.

            At the RCMP station, they asked her name and in her fugue, she gave them her real name.  Now that really kicked the ant’s nest.  They placed her in a room set up like a comfortable living room with a sofa, fleece lap blanket, and throw pillows.  It smelled of distressed women, children, and Omegas.

            A Beta woman came and talked to her, probably a caseworker or counselor.  She surreptitiously inspected her for signs of abuse as she spoke, frowning when she noticed the bruise on her cheek and lack of claiming mark.  She left after not getting any answers to her questions. 

 

            “Where is she?”  Isaiah spun towards the pair who entered the meeting room he was shown to shortly after he arrived.

            “Mr. Sterling, she’s safe.”  The male’s name badge said “Wilson.”  “We need to discuss the situation.”

            “How is she?” he demanded.

            “Traumatized,” came the clipped answer from the female who wore no uniform or nametag.  However, she did have a plastic identification card clipped to her belt, but he couldn’t make out the name before she calmly took a seat.  “She’s having a form of panic attack, withdrawing from her environment.  Do you know what caused it?”

            “Our situation is new.”  He couldn’t volunteer the true causes behind it without her being taken from him and placed where he couldn’t protect her.  He did, however, hand over a copy of the fraudulent stewardship papers to the officer.

            “It says here that she was found wandering in an empty parking lot at 2 am.  Was she in a similar state then, do you know?” asked the other male.

            “She was non-verbal at the time.  She already had the bruise when I took custody.”  Because she was drugged.  Then someone beat her for speaking up.  And when she did find her voice again, he hadn’t reacted too well.  “I plan on finding a therapist.  I thought it best to allow her time to adjust before introducing another new face.”

            “Is that why you haven’t Claimed her yet?” 

            “She is a broken Omega whom I’ve known less than a week,” Sterling said sternly.  “As you have no doubt ascertained, I have not touched her.”  Claiming by a stranger would exacerbate her issues, not magically solve them, as he knew all too well.

            “You claim she was unbalanced when she came into your care.  How am I to know the emotional damage was pre-existing or is a result of neglect?” the female asked.

            “Her physical needs are met, ample nesting materials have been supplied, and she’s been verbal nearly the entire time she’s been with me.”  She simply didn’t want to speak to him.

            “Mr. Sterling, there are some discrepancies in your report.  The Omega over whom you claim stewardship is Neva St. Louis,” he gestured to the auction papers.  “The Omega we picked up in your assistant’s car gave her name as Nova St. Denis, which we corroborated via fingerprints.”  Cold recognition washed through Isaiah’s bloodstream.  Not only was Nova St. Denis was as famous as the Lindberg baby, Charles St. Denis was her father.

            “That was the name she gave when she was found, which was supported by the identification she carried.”  Isaiah used the same tactics he did in the boardroom, sublimating the need to dominate in order to obscure his true goals.  Most people assumed Alphas went straight for the jugular, being incapable of subtlety.  There was one person’s jugular he did want, but it was no one he could immediately get his hands on.  “My lawyer has been making discreet inquiries, but no matches have been found in any registries.  Shall I put a call to her?”

            “That’s not necessary at present.  However, you may wish to should Mr. St. Denis pursue custody.”  His urge to get to his female and fight off all other males became overwhelming.

            “He’s been notified, I presume?”  A growl edged his words, which the other Alpha took in stride.  Someone in his position couldn’t afford to take up each challenge from every disgruntled citizen.

            “He’s meeting with her now.”  Isaiah’s vision went red and his mind switched off in a dull roar.

 

            “Do I have to go with him?”  Her voice seemed flat and distant even to her own ears.

            “Not right now,” the female Beta said.  “You are close to estrous, though.”  Which meant that although she couldn’t go with her father for the risk of incest in the mindless haze of her Heat, a thoroughly nauseating thought, that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t be given to him after her cycle was over.  Assuming that Sterling didn’t Claim her first.

            “Can’t I just go home?”  The whine she heard in her own words disgusted her.

            “You want to go home with Isaiah?” asked the caseworker.

            “The farm in the Okanagan.”

            “Is that where you were living before your Alpha found you?”  “Found” was one way of putting it.  “Who were you living with?”

            “My aunt.”

            “Do you have a phone number or address?”

            “She’s dead.”

            “Is there anyone else there?”  Nova shook her head.  “I’m afraid you can’t go back there, sweetheart.  Especially since you’re so close to your cycle.”  It was too late for Heat suppressants of any kind, having gone without her herbal mix for too long.  She wanted to rail against the laws that treated adult Omegas as minors incapable of living on their own.  What else could one expect when Alphas made the laws?  The caseworker was merely presenting the options and didn’t deserve a diatribe over that which she had no more control than Nova did.

            “If I chose neither?”

            “I can check availabilities in the local Omega sanctuaries,” she said hesitantly.  “But I must warn you there’s usually a six month wait list.”  The refuges were really asylums where Omegas were put who were orphaned or old enough to have Heats but a mating hadn’t yet been arranged.  Widows were dumped there after their mate’s death, although they usually committed suicide within a week of their Alpha’s passing.  Small wonder when all they had to look forward to was a life sentence of institutionalization.  No Alpha wanted a “used” Omega.

            Nova’s Scylla and Charybdis were the man who killed her mother and broodmare to the man who bought her.  The chances of being neither pregnant nor Claimed after a shared estrous with Sterling was that of the proverbial snowball.  He might not have laid a finger on her thus far, but he was bound to be livid after such a public display of defiance.  But first, she had to face Scylla.

            “Bring it on,” she murmured.

            “Remember, all you have to do is nod at me and it’s over,” the caseworker repeated.  Probably she thought Nova wasn’t fully absorbing information in her fugue.  Numbly nodding, she made a small noise of understanding.  She only realized that the caseworker had left when she returned with her sperm donor.

            “Nova.”  A proper Alpha patriarch’s voice, deep and authoritative.  And it grated awfully in her ears, completely unlike the musical quality of Sterling’s.  Her sire frowned his displeasure when she didn’t rush into his waiting arms.  Did he think she was still six years old, ignorant of his part in her mother’s death?  Her aunt never spoke of it, but websites obsessed with the dark secrets of the rich and powerful had copies of the police reports.  And she remembered the fear.

            “What did that bastard do to you?” he demanded when he finally realized she hadn’t reacted since he entered the room.  She flinched when he moved as though to scent her.  The caseworker held up a hand to stay him.

            A furious roar interrupted his cajoling reassurances that he’d done everything in his power to find her, followed by shouts and crashes.  St. Denis rushed through the door and the caseworker scurried after, vainly attempting to prevent him from confronting the feral Alpha.  No one noticed Nova follow in their wake.

            He smelled the threat before he saw it.  Snarling, he leapt on the male who would harm his Omega.  They went down in a tangle of swinging fists and papers flying from the desk they slammed into.  He felt no damage, nor cared, seeking only to eliminate the danger.  His rage grew hotter, wilder when he scented her honeyed herbal perfume.

            The male used the momentary distraction to get to his feet an put a desk in between them.  Blind to all else, he didn’t see the officer sighting the tranquilizer gun.  As he gathered himself to vault the desk, his female stepped in front of him.

            “Shh, I’m ok,” she whispered, petting his heaving chest.  His growling eased and he tried to tuck her behind him where she’d be safe.  “They won’t make me go with him.”  They couldn’t separate him from his mate, his Lyssa.  The thought snapped him out of the berserker frenzy.  His mate was dead.  Because of him. 

            Unable to slump with exhaustion in front of so many onlookers, he hid his momentary weakness by burying his nose in her neck.  Inhaling her reassured him that she hadn’t been touched, although it was muted as if she’d been emotionally detached the same as the night of the auction.  Growling again at the male who caused her withdrawal, the Omega wrapped her arms around him and leaned her head against his sternum.  The cutest little rumble filled the silence.  She was purring for him.  He enfolded her in his arms and pressed his lips to the top of her head, purring back at her.

            They rode home in silence.  He held her hand the whole way.


	8. There's No Place Like Home

Nova found herself yet again trapped in a car with an angry Alpha.  However, depression weighed too heavily for her to fully feel the effects of his scent.  When they arrived at the house, he left the child locks engaged.  She refused to pull her focus out of its thousand-yard stare to watch him like a lost puppy while he came around to open her door.  It was a show of power, proving he had it and she did not.  His massive figure loomed in the open door.  She had to take his offered hand or be dragged out.  Or worse, locked in the car.  Head held high as any queen, she accepted the gesture as if it were manners and not dominance.

            “Sit,” Sterling commanded, leading her to the living room and pointing at a plush armchair.  She was tempted to bark in reply, but she sat in the indicated chair.  At least it was comfortable if the atmosphere was not.  “Why did you lie?”  It took her a minute to understand what he was referring to.  The sense of déjà vu from when she was a kid in trouble, however, was immediate.

            “I didn’t want to give my real name at… to them.”  Nova couldn’t bring herself to say the word “auction.”  There was no need to ask why she didn’t want to risk ending up with her sire.

            “Why did you continue to lie?”  He folded his arms and planted his feet shoulder width apart.  A standard Alpha stance he probably wasn’t even aware he was doing.  She, on the other hand, couldn’t force herself to straighten her neck from its slightly bent position, her eyes fixed on his shoes.  Black leather, highly polished, with thin strips of perforated detailing along the seams.  Despite being woken in the middle of the night, the stupid garage door must’ve woken them up, after all, he was impeccably dressed.

            “I was afraid you’d give me to him for the reward, sir.”  Which, last she checked, must have been greater than what he’d paid for her.

            “Do I look like I need the money?”  She shook her head.  His register had dipped to a dangerously low tone that made her shiver.

            “It would be an easy way to get rid of me, though.  And having him publicly in your debt would be a boon.”  That she could be so matter-of-fact about the benefits of trading her like a commodity stunned him.  And yet she couldn’t look him in the eye as if she still expected him to broker some sort of deal.

            “Have I given you cause to think me capable of giving someone to a potential murderer?” he asked softly.  She resisted the urge to cringe from the underlying currents in his deep voice.

            “I don’t know what to think of a man who went to an auction with the intent to buy a kidnapped girl.”  Nova managed not to snap or cower, maintaining an outward poise, despite her instinctively submissive posture.

            “I wasn’t there as a customer.”  She flinched at the rancor in his words.  “I only bid because no one else was going to.  That fate would have been far worse.”  He had bought her to save her?  She could only gape up at him in astonishment.  No wonder he hadn’t bedded her, he hadn’t been prepared for this any more than she had been, nor was he about to hand her over to her dad.

            “Then why were you there, Alpha?”  The honorific was tossed in as a tiny olive branch.  More of a twig really.

            “Go to bed,” he ordered, turning away.

            “Alpha, there’s my farm,” she said quietly, getting to her feet, trying not to cry or beg.  “The animals, they need someone to look after them.”  _Much like people think Omegas need someone to look after them,_ she thought bitterly.

            “What’s the address?”  She bit her bottom lip.  Once he knew, there was no going back there.  Ever.  She would never see her aunt’s grave again, where she’d planted perennials and bulbs to flower one after the other through the growing seasons for years to come.  Never tend the garden or swim in the cold river.  Maybe he would let her keep some pictures?  He wouldn’t be so cruel as to destroy what little she had left of the woman who raised her, would he?  Some Alphas were like that, she’d heard.  They wanted their Omegas to sever all ties and rely solely on them.  Worst of all, she could only request, possibly angering him, and the final decision was all his.

            To her shame, a tear slid down her cheek and she turned away, starting to retreat into her mind, only to be engulfed in his arms.  She stiffened at first, but his warm strength, the way she felt dwarfed in comparison made it seem like he could block out the world and she was safe in his embrace.  Sobbing, she broke down and ugly cried in a way she had only ever done for her aunt, which was what she was doing, after a fashion.  She hadn’t even cried that hard the night before for fear someone would hear.

            Picking her up, Isaiah brought her to the couch and put her in his lap, tucking her head under his chin.  They sat like that for a long time, her sobbing and him rocking her small form slightly and whispering words of comfort he wasn’t certain she heard.  At some point, Rashad returned with the Audi.  Summoned by the weeping, he crept in with a box of tissues, setting aside for later any acrimony he might have for his employer regarding the godawful situation.  She didn’t notice until Sterling offered her the box.

            Finally, she lay limply against his chest, his shirt soaked with her tears.  When she did speak, it was to give the address.

            “I’ll find a caretaker,” he promised, still stroking her hair.  Neither of them were up to discussing what to do with the property permanently.  Despite the occasional hiccup and shuddering breaths, Nova felt as though a boulder was lifted off her chest.

            “Thank you, Alpha,” she murmured, followed by a soft snore about a minute later.  Sterling’s heart skipped a beat.  She trusted him enough to fall asleep while he held her.  Exhaustion was a major factor, true, yet he found himself awed and humbled by that trust.  Carrying her up to bed, he passed Rashad’s room where the door was open, indicating he was still up.  The Beta hurried ahead to turn down the covers since his hands were obviously full.  Not wanting to break her fragile trust, he hoped she would be comfortable enough in her sweater and leggings.  Although he did press a kiss to her forehead before slipping out.


	9. Little Star

            Nova was torn.  She spent most of the day catching up on sleep.  When she did wander downstairs to forage for food, Rashad not only acted like he wasn’t mad, he cooked her the promised crepes, with raspberries and bacon.  And tea adulterated just the way she liked it.  Sterling had gone in to his office to get some work done.  For some reason, that bothered her.

            “I’m sorry about stealing your keys and wallet.”  She felt she had to ask forgiveness before touching the food, delicious as it looked and smelled.

            “You have nothing to apologize for, Nova.”  It was strange to hear her real name after so long on the lips of someone she knew, however briefly, other than her sperm donor.  She distantly remembered the police and the caseworker using her real name, but she’d been checked out at the time.  Nor was their kindness nearly as genuine as Rashad’s.

            “You’re not in trouble, are you?”

            “He knows better than to dock my pay.  If he does, I’ll over-cook Brussel sprouts for dinner and hide his phone so he can’t order delivery,” he winked and she giggled.  “Now eat before it gets cold or I’ll do the same to you,” he mock scowled.

            “Go ahead,” she grinned back.  “Unlike Isaiah, I’ll bake cupcakes instead.  And I’ll leave the kitchen a complete mess.  Fair warning, I’ve been known to splatter the ceiling while cooking.”

            “You are evil,” he said with faux horror, wondering if maybe he should reassess his original opinion of the little Omega.

 

            After breakfast, or lunch, or whatever the heck it was when you ate at three in the afternoon, she found herself reconstructing her nook in the closet.  But no matter how she tried, it wasn’t coming out right.  It wasn’t big enough, comfortable enough, or safe enough.

            She refused to ask for more bedding, in her mind asking Rashad would be like asking him for tampons, both being highly personal, private needs.  But the craving was so overwhelming that she felt like she was coming out of her skin.  Before she had to resort to pilfering materials from other rooms, a veritable mountain of pillows and blankets appeared in her room sometime after her fourth deconstruction and re-attempt.  All new and therefore uncontaminated by smells, there were a variety of sizes, shapes, and colours.  A twinge rippled through her at the bounty supplied, making her want to seek out the Alpha and thank him for being a good provider.  Shaking off the compulsion, she immediately set to work sorting out which ones were texture violations.

            “Let me know which ones you don’t like.”  Nova spun in a crouch to defend the mound like a dragon as if he would take her hoard from her.  Rashad raised his hands in what she knew to be a placating gesture.  Belatedly she realized he hadn’t entered her room, which meant she’d left the door open and unlocked.  She never did that.  Forgetting isolation techniques was not a good sign.  What if Sterling interpreted that as an invitation?  She shuddered and clutched a pillow to her chest.

            “He’s gone.  He won’t be back until I call,” the Beta reassured her.  Did Isaiah not want to stay with her?  Was he punishing her?  Shaking her head to dislodge the strange thoughts, she kicked the door shut with one foot and dragged her collection into the closet.  The effort on such a warm day made her sweat, so she stripped to her bra and panties as she got to work.

 

            “You need to get here.  Now.”

            “No.”  Of all the things Sterling expected out of Rashad, a petition for him to rut Nova through this phase was not one.

            “It’s bad.”  In the background, he heard a distant wail.  The instinctive tug at him was muted through the phone.

            “It’s just keening.  The house is soundproofed.  As long as you keep the doors and windows shut, you can handle it,” he reminded him.

            “I think she’s been on suppressants too long,” the Beta said hesitantly.  “I’m not sure if she’s ever had a cycle.  She’s developing a fever-”

            “That’s why it’s called a Heat,” said Isaiah dryly.  Sarcasm aside, an Omega’s temperature could spike dangerously if there was a hormonal imbalance, which was highly probable if she’d been on suppressants since puberty.

            “I’m afraid she’s going to hurt herself.”  Damn him, those were the exact words Rashad knew would bring him running.

 

            “I locked her in,” confessed Rashad the minute Isaiah stepped out of the car, having met him in the garage.  “She was desperate enough to make a pass at me.”  An irrational surge of jealousy made his fists itch to pummel the Beta into a pulp.  An Omega’s pheromones could eventually affect him, possibly leading Nova to raping the gay male.

            Following the scent trail through the house, up the stairs, the sweetly intoxicating scent of an Omega in Heat hit him like a brick wall when he stepped into her room.  Nostrils flaring, he rolled his neck to work out some of the tension as he fought to maintain control over himself.  She was a virgin, he could hardly pounce on her like a rabid animal.

            The little female became frantic when she smelled him, sweaty limbs writhing attempting to rise.  While undressing, he watched her settle on all fours.  Instead of presenting her sex in preparation for mounting, she crawled to him, unfocused pupils blown to eclipse the grey irises.  Urgent whimpers and a stricken expression urged him to hurry, a course which his dick highly endorsed.  The rest of him felt sick at seeing the proud woman in such a state, in all likelihood unaware of who was with her.  Hopefully she wouldn’t remember crawling and begging.

            Yet he couldn’t help but stare.  He was completely nude by the time she reached him.  His heavy length, already at attention, bobbed enthusiastically at the tantalizing brush of her face nuzzling him.  Face growing slack, he tangled his hands in her tousled ravens-wing tresses.

            Wide eyes beseeched him as her raspberry lips parted to close around his plum-coloured head.  Vibrations of her throaty vocalizations traveled to the root of him, her brow furrowed in an unspoken plea never taking her smoky eyes off his.  Ah hell, she thought she had to appease him with her mouth before he’d ease the ache in her belly.

            Forcing his fists to unclench from her hair, he stepped back.  She grew desperate.  Did she think he was leaving?  The Omega reached for him in supplication and all but climbed into his arms when he knelt.  Purring for her, he released her bra clasp and slid it off of her.  She sighed and arched happily when he caressed her breasts, drawing the back of his fingers over her hard nipples.  Almost immediately she threw her slender arms around his neck when he picked her up and pressed her nose into the hollow of his throat.

            Male.  Alpha.  Mate.  She licked and nipped at his collarbone to entice him into breeding her.  The world tilted and she was back in her nest.  Arching her back, she rubbed her pebbled nipples against his chest.  Fingers hooked into her underwear and peeled them down her legs, the comparatively cool air rushing over her slick womanhood, making her want to scissor her legs together for relief.  She stopped at the reminder that there was a male kneeling between her feet.

            Spreading her thighs in welcome, the sense of rightness at his warm weight pressing down on her satisfied something deep within her, something she never knew was missing before.  Every inch of her quivered in anticipation.  The soothing purring broke into a chuckle.  One hand stopped petting her to pluck a shirt from her nest.

            “Stealing my clothes?”  The grin should indicate he wasn’t mad, but she wasn’t certain.  Ducking her head, she snatched the article from him and shoved it back in its place where it belonged.  Amusement devolved into a growl.  More slick gushed out of her to soothe him into fucking instead of hurting her.

            “Shh,” he shushed her puling, one large hand cupped the side of her face.  “I’m not angry.  It was a happy growl.”

            “Please,” she entreated, trembling with the cramping need tearing through her womb.  “Hurts.”

            “I know,” he crooned, although she barely heard him when he parted her folds.  “It’s going to hurt a little longer, but I’ll make it better soon.”  Her brain short circuited at the first nudge at her entrance.  He had to grip her hips firmly to stop her from impaling herself faster.  Small sharp nails dug into his shoulders and she resorted to mewling and squirming, which made her breasts bounce temptingly.  Easing his way in was an eternity of torture for them both. 

            She whimpered again, but from pain this time.  Instinctively, she tried to back away, but he held her in place.  Panic scoured her scent and tears spilled down her temples to soak into her sweat-damp hair.  Stopping his relentless assault, he purring again, petting and praising.

            “It’s all right.  You’re doing so good, my little star.  You feel so good, so pretty stretched open on my cock.”  The sight of her puffy labia spread around him made him groan.  Fresh panting rewarded his compliments and petting and her tension eased slightly.  “You’ve been a very good girl, waiting for your Alpha.  Keeping yourself tight for me.  Only for me.”  The knowledge that he would be the first to spill inside of her made him practically bestial with male pride.

            A tiny part of her, currently locked away in the back of her hormone-soaked mind, was terrified at the flood of slick caused by his demeaning, possessive words and the implications of her reaction.  Then the voice was silenced because she was full of him.  He was everywhere, her nose, his mass pressed against her body, his praises in her ear, and the exquisite sensation of fullness that melded with delicious pain.  She felt as if he were splitting her in two until there was no telling where one of them ended and the other began.

            The female’s eyes fluttered almost drowsily as she undulated under him, the grimace of hurt melting into one of pleasure.  He eased out of her hot sheath and she clawed at him, small sharp cries communicating her distress.  She still thought he would leave her.  Grinning darkly, he thrust forward.  He saw the instant her worries splintered in the cascade of sparking nerve endings.

            “Look at me,” he ordered and her eyes rolled back down from where they’d been focused on the inside of her skull.  “There you are, little one.”  Her mouth opened readily for him, greedily accepting the invasion of his tongue.  Her legs wrapped around his hips and she rolled with his slow rocking, growing faster as she loosened, now feeling only bliss.  Her noises, now purely animalistic, spurred him on.  As his apex approached, he hoped she would peak with him.

            “I’m going to knot you, little star.  Keep you under me, where you belong, where you can’t get away.”  He grunted with the force of his thrusts set to the rhythm of her moans.  “Fill your tiny pussy with my seed till you overflow.”  At this, her inner walls clamped down so hard he wasn’t sure if he could have pulled out even if he wanted to without the knot.  Her wordless wail rose from a moan to a scream and back again with the waves of her orgasm and the spurts of his come.

            The feeling of completion had his mouth salivating to bite and Claim.  Jerking to the side, he pulled his female on top of him, whose final sigh ended in a squeal of surprise.  They each shifted until they were comfortable and she started snoring lightly, sprawled across his chest with his cock still lodged deep within her, steadily pumping his semen into her.  Stroking her back tumbled him into sleep, too.

 

            Isaiah woke to a velvety rough sensation laving at his semi-erect member.  The low lighting of the lights running underneath the shelves shone faintly off the dark hair bent between his legs.  Sensing he was awake, Nova raised her eyes to his as she drew her tongue along the underside of his shaft, lapping up the combination of their still wet combined essences and dark streaks of her blood.  _I am going to Hell for getting off on her licking her virgin blood off my cock_ , he mentally groaned.  That pink tongue swirled around the head, dipping into the slit before swallowing him whole.  In her hunger, she ignored the gag reflex spasming hard around the bulbous tip.

            “On your hands and knees,” he ordered when she came up for air.  A hazy smile lit up her face before she obeyed, lowering herself onto her elbows.  The river of slick dripping out of her swollen flower glistened in the dim light, beckoning him onward.  Despite his slow entry, she squeaked and tried to lean more on her hands to get away.  All reason disintegrated and he yanked back on her hips as he snapped his forward, burying himself in one sharp shove.

            The Omega yowled and wiggled against him, soon thrusting against his lunges.  As a reward, his fingers found her pearl and she jumped in surprise, but soon settled down when she realized how good it felt.  Smirking, he pressed the tiny nub in time with their movements and soon her sleek glove rippled around him so strongly he thought he would pass out, her screams surely loud enough for the neighbours to hear.  He grinned ferally at that, wanting the whole world to know that she was his, wanted to mark her for all to see.  The thought brought him roaring, boiling his cream into her.

            The little female was already sleepy when he curled them onto their sides, making a curious, but happy, chirp at his hand cupping her breast.  She nestled deeper into his shoulder where he cradled her head and he buried his nose in the satin hollow behind her ear and they rested up for the next bout.

 

            She woke feeling empty again.  Her faint whimpers at the fluid seeping from her woke the Alpha.  With grunts and mewls, she implored him to fix it.  She didn’t know what was wrong, the burning pain from before was gone, but it was his job to take care of the problem.  A chuckle thrummed from his chest into her, eliciting a merry chirp from the Omega.  He turned her so that she was on her back and he was on his side, his fingers scooped the mixture back inside her and she purled in contentment.

            “Is that better?”  She happily hummed in response, the husky drone lilting in question when he wiped his hand off on her abdomen.  “I want you to smell of me for days.”  She smiled lazily and shimmied happily.  “Have you had anything to drink?”  The female was too busy snuggling into his neck to pay attention.  “I’ll take that as a no,” he sighed and combed her hair back from her face.  She pouted when he pulled away, clinging to him like a little monkey when he started to get up.

            “Stay.”  He tapped her nose in reprimand, earning him a sulk, but she obeyed.  After making sure they both had some water, they burrowed back into the nest.


	10. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated chapter 9 with more smut, go check it out!

            Isaiah woke to the sound of water running.  Nova was gone and the bathroom door across from the closet was closed.  It didn’t take a genius to deduce where she was.  He waited until the water heater must have given up and she emerged in a diffusion of steam.  Dark circles rested under her eyes like bruises, cracked lips an admonition that he hadn’t ensured she stayed hydrated, and her shirt hung in a way that emphasized how much weight she’d lost.  Avoiding looking in his direction, she tried the main door to find it locked.

            “Rashad won’t open it unless I say so.”  He leaned, unabashedly naked and positively reeking of the two of them and sex, in the archway between the closet and bathroom and the bedroom.

            “What else do you want?” she asked tiredly.  “You already got to fuck my brains out, probably knocked me up, and if you really wanted to, I’m sure you could get rid of me and get a refund from my dad.”

            “What I want is to talk.”  He sauntered towards her.  Those narrow shoulders squared and she steadfastly stared at the door as if it would open by sheer force of will.

            “Funny, you didn’t seem to feel much like conversing before, Alpha.”  Now he was in her peripheral vision.  A slow blink was her only acknowledgement that she saw him.

            “Neither did you.  Certainly not by the way you prefer to take cheap shots instead of discussion.  I suppose your emotional immaturity is a side effect of your previous isolation.”  Her head snapped around, eyes blazing like diamonds.  Finally, she’d looked at him of her own accord, more or less.

            “You are correct, my current isolation is a great improvement, sir.”  The polite tone and coquettish batting of eyelashes would have fooled anyone who was blind to the fire in her gaze.  “If you would be so kind as to dress, for I fear I may throw myself at the feet of a nude Alpha, being a mere Omega.  Then I gladly accept your invitation.”

            Reaching past her, he banged the side of a fist against the door thrice and shouted for Rashad.  A minute later there was the unmistakable sound of a key in a lock and the Beta stood there, appearing nearly as tired as Nova did.  Then he was gone again, wisely wanting no part in the tension between the two of them.

           

            Blowing on her tea, Nova wistfully looked out at the garden.  After three days of being locked in a closet, she longed to be outdoors.  But she didn’t trust either of them to be quiet and the neighbours shouldn’t hear what they had to say to each other.  She estimated the grounds to be about an acre, which, while expansive and expensive by Vancouver standards, was paltry by her reckoning.

            Rashad fried up thick cut, sugar cured bacon and hashbrowns, her favourites, and sliced up fresh pineapple.  There were also poached eggs for Sterling.  She couldn’t stand the taste of eggs.  Strange, for a woman who raised chickens and sold eggs as part of her living.  They, she kept a cooler at the end of the driveway with a locked cashbox bolted to a post.  Only once did a customer think to take a carton without paying.  They learned that she was a good shot with a BB gun.  Isaiah entered the breakfast nook and frowned at her cup of tea, swapping it for a glass of orange juice.  If looks could kill, he’d be a smoking crater.

            “You need to rehydrate first,” he lectured, taking a seat across from her.  Waiting until he was busy with his first bite, she traded his coffee out for the glass of juice.

            “You need to rehydrate first, Alpha,” she smiled and batted her lashes as she poured another glass for herself.

            “I wasn’t the one with slick pouring out of me for three days straight.”  Nova turned beet red, sparking a dangerously sly gleam in his heavy-lidded eyes.

            “And I wasn’t the one doing most of the work, sir.”  His instincts and need for control saw to that, that much she remembered.  “Nor was I producing ejaculate.  Moreover, there’s a lot more mass to you than there is to me.  Ergo, you require fluids at least as much as me, if not more.”

            Sterling raised his glass to concede defeat.  Eyes squinting suspiciously, she paused momentarily, bringing hers to clink against his.  Smiling behind his cup, she studied him as if he were a curious bug that might sting.

            “How long have you had fugue states?”  He started in on his eggs while she pretended to be preoccupied with a tiny speck of rind left on her pineapple.

            “I will answer your questions if you answer mine.”  He stilled at the rush of words pouring out of her.

            “The nature of your questions?”  One dark eyebrow arched.

            “Let’s just say for the moment that they are of equitable value,” she said cryptically.  To her astonishment, he nodded in acquiescence.  “I’ve had them since my aunt took me to live with her.  I was about seven?  So approximately fourteen years.  Why?”

            “I like it when a woman becomes a mindless animal underneath me.”  She flushed hot with both anger and embarrassment.  If he thought to use her episodes against her…  “But I only like it when it’s because she’s enjoying herself, not as a result of hormones or psychological reasons.”  Her blush deepened adorably.  “What triggers them?”

            “Stress,” she shrugged, toying with the corner of her napkin so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

            “You need to eat,” he frowned.  The newly deepened hollows at her throat and collarbones were prominent in the warm morning light filtering through the windows arching around the breakfast nooks.

            “I’m not very hungry,” she murmured, still not looking at him.

            “You’ve lost too much weight.”  Isaiah’s temper was mounting.  Damn female didn’t have the good sense to take care of herself.  This was why Omegas needed an Alpha.  It was a wonder that evolution hadn’t prune their dynamic from the phylogenetic tree.  If the authorities or her father saw her like this, it would lend credence to the case against his custody.  And he’d be damned if he would let her near that man any longer than was mandated by a court.

            She watched warily as he stood and came around to her.  Next thing she knew, he’d plucked her out of her seat, sat down, and plopped her on his lap.  Resistance was futile as she quickly learned with one arm firmly holding her in place.  She stilled at the bulge pressing against her butt.  She was extremely sore from their recent sexcapades as it was, though she was careful to hide it for the sake of her pride.  She was most certainly not up for another round any time soon.  Ignoring him wasn’t a choice because he scooped of some of her hashbrowns onto her fork and brought it to her mouth, waiting like an odd heat-seeking missile bearing starch instead of explosives.

            “Fine, I’ll eat,” she sighed.  He grabbed her wrist when she reached for the utensil.  That she should feel safe in his arms was ridiculous, so she sat stiffly.

            “You forfeited that option, now we’re doing this my way.”  She gave in with a sigh and delicately took the food.  At least he wasn’t making airplane noises.  The whole affair was terribly awkward.  Careful not to injure her with the tines, he stopped short, forcing her to come to the food willingly.  No, not awkward.  Mortifying.

            “How long do these catatonic states last?”  Sterling gave her a moment to answer, taking a sip of coffee now that he could reach it where she’d moved itb.

            “I’m not sure.  I’m not really aware of time, sometimes I lose a few minutes at a time, but it’s more like my memory’s all fuzzy afterward.”  Her grey eyes darkened to smoke and cast downward at her lap.  “Last one was when my aunt died.  One minute I find her.  The next it’s hours later and I’m buried in my nest.”  Either he took pity on her, didn’t want to risk another episode by discussing her lost, or he heard all he needed to on that subject because he fed her another bite.  He let her reach for her drink before resuming feeding.

            “You’ve never had to rely on anyone, have you?”  The gentle query caught her off-guard, being a departure from his line of questioning.

            “On the contrary, I had to rely on my aunt because I couldn’t leave the farm,” she shook her head, eyebrows high in surprise.  “I’m just not used to people, males especially.  Until last week, my doctor was the only one I’d me since I moved out there.”

            “I meant you’re unaccustomed to relying on others in the way of Omegas.”  Bacon this time.  Sugar cured and it truly was the candy of the meat group.  She didn’t do her “happy food dance” as Aunt Erica called her butt wiggle when eating her favourite foods, Sterling probably already thought she was weird enough as it was, but she did hum a little.

            “Most Omegas are stunted on purpose,” she snorted after swallowing.  “Easier to control if we’re dependent.”  Hashbrowns again.  They had developed a pattern now, their movements smoother, less cautious now that they knew how to anticipate each other.  Most of her plate was cleared.

            “And you have a breadth of experiences and acquaintances to support this theory,” he smiled crookedly, but not cruelly.

            “I’ve recently had my fill, yes,” she said dryly, thinking of the others at the auction.  “But if you study Omega curricula and educational theories, it’s all predicated on the notion that we are helpless to do for ourselves.  Ergo Omegas are indoctrinated from pre-school, if not before, to expect others to do everything for them.”

            “Aren’t you?  Unable to be independent?”  He took a sip of coffee that had gone cold.  Nova giggled at the resulting grimace.

            “Hardly.  If it weren’t for the predations of-” she side-eyed him, remembering his edict regarding respecting Alphas, at least outwardly “-certain unscrupulous people, I could have maintained the farm myself.”  She paused to relish the last piece of bacon.

            “Which proves that Omegas are helpless,” argued Isaiah.

            “We can do just as well as any other dynamic,” she insisted.  “Why should we be held accountable for the misdeeds of others?  I say to you that treating all Alphas as though they are unable to control themselves does your entire dynamic a disservice.  Without pheromones, there’s no way for us as Omegas to entrap an Alpha against his will.”  Sterling wanted to refute her point because she was beguiling him with her natural perfume, and firm, round ass in his lap, even though he was rubbed raw from the past few days.  “According to your argument, Alphas are helpless against their very natures and should be sequestered for their own good as well as that of others.  Omegas, on the other hand, are cloistered ostensibly for their own good alone.  In reality, certain unscrupulous individuals are culpable due to a combination of unchecked power and a lack of moral fortitude.”

            As inexperienced as she was, Isaiah couldn’t help but admire her.  She was definitely no child bride, like so many Omegas were raised to be.  Her mind worked in curious ways, but was sharp and unafraid to challenge him.  Despite his first rule of not questioning his authority, she found subtle ways of doing so that he couldn’t take offense to without being an utter asshole.

            “Why is it so important for you to be independent?”  Only the fruit was left.  Watching her open wide for the large chunk nearly made him groan at the reminder of how she sucked him off.  Feathery lashes fluttered closed as she savoured the flavour.  Despite the twinge in his penis, and not the good kind, he could have bent her over the table and…  No, she was too short for that.  Up against the wall.  He was too caught up in his wet daydream to notice she was speaking.

            “-much the same way you or anyone needs to be independent, I suppose.”

            “I am not independent.”  She was fascinated at the way one of his eyebrows arched when he was trying to make a point.  Better to stare like a dork than laughing in his face, she supposed.  “As an Alpha, I need people to take care of, to protect.  Take Rashad, for example.”  Her neck started to ache from twisting to face him while keeping her hands clasped in her lap, so she draped the arm closest to him over his shoulders.  Thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind, nor take it as a flirtation.

            “Seems to me he cares for you.”  Thinking about the accidental phrasing made a heretofore unknown emotion come to life within her.  She put it away to analyze later.

            “He does at that,” he laughed.  “And for my part, I take pride in knowing my best friend is safe, happy, and comfortable.”

            “It seems strange to have a friend work for you.”  Her pert nose wrinkled adorably.

            “He does for me in much the same way your aunt did for you.”  The obvious lightbulb moment on her face was ridiculously endearing.  The way she was so unguarded with her emotions fascinated him.  Most Omegas were taught how to manipulate Alphas from the time they could walk.  He pinched the last bit of pineapple between a thumb and forefinger.  She hesitated, but before he could tease her that she’d had much more of him than a finger in her mouth, she took it, lips sliding like wet silk across his digits.  Eye closed in enjoyment, she was oblivious to the juice running down her chin.  Holding her with both arms, he lapped up the droplet.  Smirking against her skin, he felt her breath catch and her heart pound.

            “Why were you there?” she asked when she caught her breath again her soft question taking his away.  “You obviously didn’t want me, let alone expected to bring anyone home.”  With hooded eyes, he watched her bite into her plump lower lip with tiny white teeth.

            “What led you to that conclusion?” he purred.

            “You ignored me except to issue commands.”  That bow mouth twisted and her brow furrowed in hurt confusion.

            “Should I have thrown you over my shoulder and hauled you to my bed?”  Silver irises went as wide as quarters and her bosom trembled with the unsteadiness of her breathing.  Grinning darkly, he tightened the arm around her and the honeyed scent of flowering herbs of her arousal was his compensation.  Even if neither of them were capable of enjoying a romp between the sheets at the moment, he still enjoyed finding what buttons to push.  Besides, it was cute to watch her fight her instincts.  “Perhaps I wanted to make you wait until you came crawling to me?”  Her cheeks flamed.  Making her blush was also quite fun, he’d found, and contemplated how to accomplish it at every opportunity.

            “Why were you there?” repeated Nova, finally recognizing his distractions for what they were.

            “I owe a CSIS agent a favour of sorts.”  His mouth twisted in distaste, the recollection of how talented it was filtered through her brain.  “I’ve been taxed with providing names and evidence of the auctions.”

            “Won’t you be in trouble for… participating?”

            “I believe this would be covered under extenuating circumstances,” he smiled and pressed his forehead against hers.  She smiled back shyly.

            “Thank you for making sure the farm’s ok, and for saving me.”  Her wide grey eyes stared into his from mere centimeters away.  Diffidently, she brushed her lips against his, initiating her first kiss outside of the fog of Heat.  Now that her mind was in control, she found that she technically knew the mechanics, but the application was another matter entirely.  The autocratic Alpha allowed her to take the reins, opening at the first tentative brush of her tongue.  Before she could gather the courage to explore, the sound of Rashad loading the washer came from the laundry room across the hallway from the kitchen.  She leapt up and dashed upstairs, presumably to her room.  Sterling leaned back in his chair and weighed the pros and cons of murdering his best friend.


	11. Catch-22

            Nova took a deep breath and steeled herself.  The sunlight hurt her eyes as though she had been in the dark for ages.  Shading her eyes, she padded across the thick, manicured lawn to the herb patch where Rashad was weeding.

            “Good afternoon.”  His smile against his dark skin was brilliant.  “I’d put you to work, but you’re not dressed for it.”  Nova laughed in agreement, looking down at her flowery below the knee skirt and cashmere cardigan.

            “Rashad, I’m really sorry about the other day.”  She had her hands clasped in front of her, almost like a fig leaf.  Her toes, bare as usual, scrunched up in the dense grass in her chagrin.  Having seen pictures of her farm from the emails the caretaker sent, he mentally shook his head at his previous admonitions against her running barefoot outside.  If that was her habit, the soft greens of suburbia posed no threat to her feet, no matter how dainty they were.

            “There’s no need to apologize, kid.”  He shook his head with a smile.  “I’ve had worse from lovers.”  She blinked and gaped for a second, before averting her eyes and turning red.  He almost felt bad because yanking her chain was like shooting fish in a barrel.  Taking pity on her discomfiture, he showed her the scratches on his arm were the thinnest strips of scabs, barely a centimeter long and about to fall off.  Carefully holding the skirt close, she sat on the grass nearby.

            “Rashad,” she began timidly.  “I’m not his first Omega, am I?”  A butterfly dancing through the roses across the way caught her attention as she waited for his response.

            “That’s something you’ll have to ask him,” he said finally, going back to weeding.  She snorted and plucked at the grass.  He cast a questioning glance over his shoulder.

            “I think I’m on thin ice as it is,” she sighed in response to his unspoken question.  The mystery of her predecessor had her guts twisting into knots.  She’d lain awake that night wondering what had happened to the unidentified Omega.  In the dark loneliness, feeling used, she’d imagined a variety of scenarios, each more disturbing than the last.  And yet she preferred those dark thoughts over dwelling on the possibility of being pregnant.

            “And what led you to that conclusion?”

            “The Not So Great Escape and I might have argued that Alphas aren’t perfect.” His willingness to screw her, but not Claim her, she added mentally, twirling a green blade nearly the shade of her sweater between her fingertips.  “I’m not stupid enough to piss him off again.”

            “Is that what you think you did?”  He turned to sit on the border of his plot and face her.  She nodded with eyebrows raised high in a “duh” expression.  “You disappeared in the middle of the night in a strange city, a half tank of gas, and they found you in Surrey running on fumes!  Do you know what could have happened if you’d stopped for gas there?”  She wanted to be a smart-ass and say something about being kidnapped and auctioned off to the highest bidder, but even she knew that, that was not the worst possible fate as recent experience taught her. 

            “You didn’t piss him off, you scared the shit out of him.”  She was startled.  He’d never cursed in her presence before, yelling at his computer didn’t count.  And why did she feel so guilty?  She didn’t owe Sterling anything.  Well, she probably did owe him her life.  And for making sure the property was taken care of.  What did one do when indebted in situations like this?  Did the mating cycle count as repayment?  If so, did that mean she was a whore?  Her head hurt, Miss Manners never covered this.

            “As for arguing with him, he could use it,” he grinned.  “Remind him that he doesn’t need to be the perfect Alpha and you’re not as fragile as he thinks you are.”  A spark of pride warmed her at his words.  The Beta and the Alpha did treat her gently, all things considered, but not as if she was spun glass like the cops and the caseworker did.  Or her sperm donor.  The reminder of her upcoming visit cast a chill shadow over the sunny garden.

 

            “Dr. Stolberg.”  The man answering the phone sounded like he was in his late 50’s, perhaps early 60’s, which was in keeping with the pictures of him attached to articles extolling his work with Omegas Sterling had found online.

            “My name is Isaiah Sterling.  I’m calling in regards to one of your patients, Nova St. Denis.”  There was a long period of dead air.

“You must be mistaken,” he finally began.

            “You might have known her as Neva St. Louis,” interrupted Isaiah.

            “I can’t discuss-”

            “I’m her Alpha,” he snarled, triggering another bout of silence.  After he’d regained his composure, he said more calmly, “Did you know her aunt died?”

            “I was not aware.”  Stolberg sounded genuinely upset.

            “Her father,” the word twisted sourly in his mouth, “is filing for custody.”  Her sire had wasted no time as he’d discovered when he’d arrived at the office that morning to find that the paperwork was already filed.

            “You haven’t Claimed her?” he asked with cautious surprise.

            “I’ve known her less than a week,” Sterling admitted.  “She’s been traumatized enough without a premature Claiming.”  Whether he Claimed her or not it would be used against him in a Catch-22.  As a medical professional, Stolberg was undoubtedly aware of the little-known procedure to sever a bond.  In light of his debate with Nova the day before, he now had a better understanding as to why it wasn’t more well-known, only used in extreme circumstances.  If Nova’s mother had, had access to it, maybe she’d still be alive if she could have gotten away from St. Denis first.  “Which is why I’m calling you.”

            “Does she know you’re contacting me?”

            “No, I didn’t want to upset her, particularly since she may be carrying my child.”  He swore his heart tripped a beat when he said it aloud, making the tentative hope a little more real.

            “Take this bit of advice from someone who’s been married forty years,” the older man chuckled.  “Trying to protect them by keeping secrets only hurts them more in the long run.  And knocking up an Omega without Claiming her is despicable.”  Sterling dismissed the counsel, but did not say as much out of respect.  What could a Beta know about an Alpha’s instincts?  He fully intended to make her fully his once this legal business was finished.

            “What would cause fugue states in a seven-year-old Omega?”

            “I’ve never discussed this with her,” sighed Stolberg.  “But it would have to be a very traumatic event witnessed firsthand, the event blocked from her memory as a way of protecting herself.  The episodes are a form of panic attack, her mind relying on the same technique to shield her from the stressor.”  The wood of his desk creaked under his grip that suddenly tightened.

            “An event such as one parent murdering the other?”  The doctor’s affirmation only confirmed the suspicion that had been steadily growing since learning her true name.


	12. Trapped

            On his commute home, Sterling steeled himself for the conversation he had to have with Nova.  It didn’t help that his hindbrain kept wanted to refer to her as his Omega.  He feared that if he let that slip she might spook and gladly run to her father.  If only his own mother, an Omega, was still around.  Maybe even talk to her, Omega to Omega.  As it was, the only ones he could trust with this were himself and Rashad.  The sound of laughter and clinking dishes and the aromas of delicious food and home greeted him when he stepped into the house.  The happy noises quieted as they scented him, or rather, when she scented him.  As he entered the kitchen, the French doors to the patio swung shut behind Nova, offering a mere glimpse of her flared, indigo skirt.

            “Dinner’s in thirty,” Rashad announced with barely a glance in his direction.  Isaiah frowned in puzzlement.  He timed meals virtually down to the minute for when he got home, freeing up the rest of his evening for work.  “Soufflés can’t be rushed,” shrugged the Beta.

            “Finicky bastard,” he muttered and shrugged out of his jacket, draping it over the back of one of the chairs.  The silver silk tie, nearly the colour of Nova’s eyes, soon followed.

            “Don’t piss off the cook,” he warned with a jab of a wooden spoon in his direction then pointed it towards the doors.  “Now get out there and talk to her.  She saw the article.”

            “Fuck,” sighed Sterling and ran a hand through his hair.

            “Fuck is right,” he agreed.  “No, wait.  No fucking.  Fucking bad.”  He emphasized his point with the utensil and waved the Alpha away.

            Nova sat at the edge of a pebbled wall over which water cascaded, trailing her fingers in the pool and watched the ripples distort reflections.  For a moment, he was glad he’d met her.  Guilt immediately pierced him.  How could he possibly be happy?  Lyssa was gentle and kind and everything an Omega was supposed to be and he’d loved her.  This Omega was nothing like her, but her life was in shambles and she needed his help.  He could only hope he wouldn’t screw it up this time.

            “When were you going to tell me?” she asked, not turning towards him.

            “Tonight.  After dinner,” he answered truthfully.  _Perhaps after a glass of wine or two_.   _Maybe some Scotch for himself_.

            “So, you’re going to hand me over, just like that?”

            “No.”

            “Or were you going to keep me here?  You claim that the farm was a prison, but I’m not seeing much difference here.”  Instead of her customary fire, she seemed defeated instead when she finally looked at him with large eyes.

            “I know that everything is far more stimulation than that to which you’re accustomed.  I’m not trying to keep you prisoner, I’m trying to keep you safe.  I knew you’d tell me when you were ready to venture out.”  He sat on the ledge next to her.  The sun-drenched stone radiated heat through his slacks.

            “Then why the iron grate on the window?” she demanded.

            “I was Mated.”  Nova couldn’t breathe for the pain ripping through her heart.  It made no sense to be so hurt, but that didn’t change what she felt.  Freezing into stillness, her nails dug grooves in her clammy palms.  Although she didn’t want to hear about his former Omega, she didn’t interrupt.  At least, she hoped ‘former’ applied.

            “Her name was Lyssa.  We were engaged, but another suitor didn’t take the rejection well.”  _Did any Alpha?_ she wondered silently.  “She wanted to be the one to break the news to him, instead of her family, to let him down gently in private to spare his pride.  She thought it was the right thing to do.”  As though a veil was pulled away, his raw emotions shone through as he forgot to keep them bottled up.  Or perhaps the pain was too great for him to control.  “He choked her into unconsciousness and raped her in her parents’ home.”  She wanted to put her arms around him and soothe the grief that still tortured him.

            “She was never the same after that.  We went ahead with the ceremony, she seemed almost frantic for it, as if it could erase her memories.  She didn’t want to get help, she thought she needed to just get over it and move on.  Things worsened when she felt my constant worry for her because she no longer felt safe with an Alpha, any Alpha.  She thought that my concern was evidence that I wasn’t confident in my ability to protect her, so she lacked faith in me.  Four weeks later she committed suicide.”  The missing puzzle pieces clicked into place.  His early insistence on not questioning Alphas, his need to take care of her after she ran away, going feral at the RCMP station…  Admittedly getting pulled over in Surrey, of all places, probably set him off from the start there.

            “The bars were for Lyssa.  The windows and mirror are a special safety glass, too.”  Bracing for the agonizing stab of self-recrimination, he was astonished when it never came.  It seemed to be hit or miss these days.  She scooted closer and wrapped an arm around him in a side-hug, which he carefully returned, resting his cheek on top of her head.  His heart was heavy with grief, but he could breathe.  It seemed an age since he could think of her without feeling like his guts had been shredded.

            “So, you and her didn’t… share a room?”  He could practically feel her cheek burning through his shirt, deft fingers toying with a button, which sparked a smile against the top of her head.

            “I am not one to bed a traumatized girl,” he growled experimentally.  No flinch, although her breath did catch.

            “Didn’t seem to stop you,” she grumbled petulantly.  Immediately she froze like a kitten in its mother’s grip when his fingers tightened in her hair, using it like a handle to turn her to face him.

            “Do you remember begging me to make the pain go away?”  His soft question lit another blaze in her cheeks.  Dark lashes shuttered silver eyes in embarrassment.

            “That was the hormones talking,” she sniffed in disdain, although the cute splotches of pink on her cheeks defeated the effect.

            “This was a bad Cycle, wasn’t it?” he asked softly, easing the grip to stroke her hair.

            “I don’t know,” she admitted.  “I haven’t had any since my first, and those tend to be pretty light.”  The hormones didn’t hit with full force until an Omega fully matured, and she and her aunt started concocting her heat suppressants immediately after she cycled.

            “Well, you body seemed to want to make up for lost time.”  He nuzzled her ear with a grin and she giggled lightly.  She quickly sobered.  “What happened between you and my dad back at the police station?  Or was it an Alpha male thing you can’t talk about?” asked Nova.  Suddenly, Stolberg’s advice replayed in his mind.

            “You probably don’t remember,” he sighed in resignation.  “You seemed to be in one of your episodes, but he was at the auction.”  Immediately her mind started to detach to protect her.  “Please stay with me,” he said gently, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand.  A request?  Not an order?  Was he replaced with a pod person?  The silly thought was enough to shake her out of it.  “I think he’s involved in it somehow.”

            “Then this will be the perfect chance for me to gather evidence!  I go as per the court order, dig up whatever I can find, and then declare I want to stay with you.  It’s perfect!” she exclaimed, leaping to her feet.  Sterling, on the other hand, was not quite as enthused.

            “Absolutely not,” he snapped.  “It’s far too dangerous.”

            “He won’t try anything with government looking over his shoulder, evaluating him for the custody case.  And the threat of another ‘mysterious’ death hitting the media, coupled with the very public fact that I am no longer ‘lost,’ will keep him in line,” she countered.  Isaiah noted that she didn’t count on the sentimental ties of blood to protect her.  “When else are you going to get access to his records?”

            “There’s another auction this weekend, they can net him in a raid,” he growled.

            “Not without a warrant, and there has to be probable cause for one,” she pointed out.  “If they use your testimony that he was there and they don’t find anything, then there goes any chance of catching him.  And no judge is likely to risk his career to accuse St. Denis of sexual trafficking on the say so of someone with whom he’s in a custody battle.”

            “Not if you testify as well.”  As much as he’d admired her intelligence before, he now found it frustrating.

            “I’d be an unreliable witness,” she shook her head.  “Less than a week after a shared Heat with you and possibly imprinting on the first Alpha male I’ve seen in years?  Even without that, his lawyers would accuse you of brainwashing me to poison me against him, lending more weight to his suit.  Or they could argue that you were putting ‘undue stress’ on me by ‘allowing’ me to testify.”  She made quote marks with her fingers and rolled her eyes to indicate what she thought of that concept.

            “I suppose I never realized Omegas weren’t considered capable of providing witness,” he blinked.  Then again, that dynamic was the least likely to engage in legal pissing matches.

            “You did.  You just never saw us as fully adult before,” she said gently.

            “How do you know so much about the judiciary system?  Were you peddling more than crafts and produce?” he eyed her with feigned suspicion.

            “There’s not a lot to do when the snow’s up to your hips,” she laughed and edged closer.  He spread his legs and pulled her close to stand between them.  “Or knees in your case.  I watched and read a lot of crime dramas and non-fiction.”

            “I will allow you to go,” he said, holding her tight, the comforting pressure grounding her in her skin.  She wanted to tease him about “allowing” her to do anything, but she also knew that he could readily prevent her from doing any number of things.  “On one condition.”

            “Which is?”  At first, she thought he bent to kiss her.  In anticipation, she rose up on her toes and closed her eyes.  Instead, she felt his tongue lave her neck and she fairly melted into his arms, ignoring the claxon bells in the back of her mind.  His arms tightened even further around her as she relaxed.  Then came the intense pressure, tearing, pain, and oblivion.

* * *

            Rashad’s right hook came out of nowhere.  Sterling staggered back a step and pressed a hand to his aching jaw.  The Beta vibrated with fury, his fists clenched at his sides as he contemplated more violence toward the Alpha.

            “You swore,” he hissed through gritted teeth.  “On Lyssa’s name, you swore!”

            “Best case scenario, he takes her and I never see her again.  Worst, she ends up like her mother, or back on the block,” he growled.  The very thought made him want to crouch over her unconscious form on the bed like a wild beast protecting its mate.

            “He wouldn’t.”  Rashad didn’t sound very convinced.

            “He killed his mate.  What’s a little more blood on his hands?” he asked in disgust.  “Besides, he’s already sold her once.”

            “He could petition for a dissolution.”

            “A court would have to sign off on that, and they won’t without proof of abuse,” Isaiah shook his head.

            “And you don’t think she’ll demand one when she wakes up and learns you’ve bound her?”  The other male gestured to her small form, seeming more fragile in unconsciousness.  He knew that if she didn’t already know about the procedure from Internet rumours, Rashad would tell her if Sterling didn’t summon the moral fortitude to do so himself.

            “She won’t,” he said softly, combing his fingers through her hair, mesmerized at the silken feel of the black strands.

            “You seem awfully certain.”  Rashad folded his arms over his chest.

            “I can feel her,” he said more to himself than to his friend.  “She wants an Alpha to take control, but she fights it because she thinks one can’t be both submissive and strong.”

            “Neither did you until she came along,” he chuckled in amazement at the tender expression he never thought to see on his best friend’s face again, the face of a newly Mated Alpha.

            “And she won’t be like Lyssa.”


	13. Dealing With the Devil

            Rashad’s right hook came out of nowhere the instant Nova was safely settled on her bed.  Sterling staggered back a step and pressed a hand to his aching jaw.  The Beta vibrated with fury, his fists clenched at his sides as he contemplated more violence toward the Alpha.

            “You swore,” he hissed through gritted teeth.  “On Lyssa’s name, you swore!”

            “Best case scenario, he takes her and I never see her again.  Worst, she ends up like her mother, or back on the block,” he growled back.  The very thought made him want to crouch over her unconscious form on the bed like a wild beast protecting its mate.

            “He wouldn’t.”  Rashad didn’t sound very convinced, glancing over at the little form on the bed.

            “He killed his mate.  What’s a little more blood on his hands?” he asked in disgust.  “Besides, he’s already sold her once.”

            “He could petition for a dissolution.” 

            “The court would have to sign off on that, and they won’t without proof of abuse,” Isaiah shook his head.  There were few laws on the books regarding the Talaq solution, largely because no Alpha wanted a public record of the procedure.  As it was, forcing himself to broach the topic required an immense force of will and not merely due to the ingrained taboo on discussing it.  “As long as he’s free and she’s bound to me, she’ll be safe.”

            “And you don’t think she’ll demand one when she wakes up and learns you’ve bound her?”  The other male gestured to her small form, seeming more fragile in unconsciousness.  He knew that if she didn’t already know about the procedure from Internet rumours, Rashad would tell her if Sterling didn’t summon the moral fortitude to do so himself.

            “She won’t,” he said softly, combing his fingers through her hair, mesmerized at the silken feel of the strands.

            “You seem awfully certain.”  Rashad folded his arms over his chest.

            “I can feel her,” he said more to himself than to his friend.  “She wants an Alpha to take control, but she fights it because she thinks one can’t be both submissive and strong.”

            “Neither did you until she came along,” he chuckled in amazement at the tender expression he never thought to see on his best friend’s face again, the face of a newly Mated Alpha.

            “And she won’t be like Lyssa," he vowed again.

* * *

           Nova woke feeling very strange.  Why was she in bed in the middle of the day?  Sitting up made her head spin with a deep throbbing ache emanating from the whole left side of her neck.  Gingerly reaching up, her fingers were stopped by a bandage over the scent gland there, also known as bonding glands.  Oh he did not…

          Dashing for the en suite bathroom, she slammed the lightswitch on and stared at the stark white gauze.  Trembling fingers carefully peeled the dressing part way to reveal a semicircle of torn flesh and a gradually spreading bruise.  She quickly pressed the edges back down until the adhesive formed a seal before her knees gave way and she dropped heavily onto the toilet lid.  She was bound to him for the rest of their natural lives.  Every emotion, every sensation would be shared with the other.  For better or for worse.  Shock, rage, and numbness warred for dominance until anger won out.  The force of it sent her barreling downstairs to find him.

           “Whoa, whoa, whoa.  Slow your roll there, half-pint.”  Rashad blocked her path with one arm and her momentum carried her forward.  The Beta loosely hugged her to him before she could fall back onto her butt, allowing her to wriggle but not setting her free either.

           “Let me at him!” she snarled and beat at the arm pinning her with small, white-knuckled fists.  “I’m gonna kill him!”

           “You know you can’t,” he sighed heavily.

           “You’re right.  Not while he’s expecting it anyway.”  She stilled, but her mind was still racing.

           “You do and you’re committing suicide, sweetheart,” her reminded her sadly and moved his hands to her biceps.

           “I don’t care.”  There was no one, nothing left for her.  Not after this betrayal.  Her only consolation was that the knife carving out her own heart was slicing into Sterling as well.

           “And what about St. Denis?” he asked gently.  “You do that and there’s no one to stop him.  He’ll keep on trafficking Omegas.  Would you have them stuck in this position?”  As much as she wanted to punch him for emotionally manipulating her like that, she had to admit he was right. 

            “Fine, asshole.  Get me a suitcase so I can go get some dirt on the asshole.”  While she hated that everything she currently owned he’d bought for her, she was too proud to go to her sire without even a change of clothes.

            “Which one?”  Nova snorted at the weak joke and accepted a hug from him.  The kind of hug where comfort and affection settle over the participants like a warm blanket on a cold night, two hearts beat as one, and when separated are the stronger for it.

* * *

            Isaiah knew the instant Nova woke, feeling her pain and anger piercing his chest where he felt their bond.  Unfortunately, he was trapped in a teleconference with St. Denis, their respective lawyers, and a court liaison.  And it was not going well.

            “Mr. Sterling, Mr. St. Denis has requested that Ms. Nova visit him for two weeks,” the moderator announced, interrupting his train of thought.

            “No, absolutely not.”

            “As her father, he has the greater petition.”  Blood trumped stewardship in the eyes of the court, whether or not it was to the Omega’s benefit.  Powerful families didn’t readily relinquish any pawns they could manipulate and a pretty, young woman was invaluable.

            “We’re Mated.”  The thought of St. Denis silently fuming at the bomb he just dropped made the corners of his mouth curve up in a malicious smile.

            “That was rather sudden.”  Icicles practically dripped from the phone, widening his grin.  “But nothing that cannot be reversed.  Two weeks.”

            “One week,” he countered.

            “Ten days and then Ms. Nova gets to choose,” the opposition’s attorney interjected.  His own was quick to accede.  He didn’t bother arguing the point because it still fell short of the amount of time she had been with him.

“A choice between the man who forced a Mating?  Hardly a choice,” the other Alpha scoffed.  “Is that because you can’t find another Omega who will accept you after what happened to your last one?”

            “Speaking from experience?” asked Sterling coolly.

            “My late mate was taken from me.  Yours committed suicide,” St. Denis sneered.  Isaiah stilled a flinch before it started.

            “Gentlemen,” the liaison interjected sharply.  “I will email the pertinent documents to your counsellors and they will coordinate the logistics.  Considering your behaviour, you are not to have any contact with each other without your both of your lawyers present as well as a representative of the court.  Furthermore, you will refrain from discussing your opinions about the other to Ms. St. Denis.  If neither of you have her best interests in mind, then I will be forced to declare both of you unsuitable.”

            “Understood,” he murmured.  He wasn’t certain whether he was glad or worried that Nova had a competent advocate.  Thankfully the rest of the meeting went in the blink of an eye and soon he climbed the stairs two at a time.  Would she retreat in depression?  Had he triggered an episode?  Or would she hurl the first object she laid eyes on?  He ducked at the last minute and the crystal vase full of flowers shattered against the doorframe behind him.  He was damn lucky she had terrible aim.

           “You goddamn fucking son of a bitch!” she screamed and threw a marble bookend shaped like a chess piece, specifically the knight.  “You-you can’t Claim me!  If I’m Claimed, then there’s no reason for a visitation!”

            “And?”

           “And there goes our chance of finding evidence!” she snapped and cast about for more ammunition, but came up empty save for pillows.  “I’m not gonna sit here nice and safe, twiddling my thumbs, while more Omegas are being sold to slimy assholes.”   He edged towards her, purring as loudly as he could.  “Stop that!  It’s not going to work!” she cried. 

           Despite her protestations, he felt some of the wrath evaporate and she didn’t reach for another projectile.  “Stop right there.”  She backed away, trying to position an armchair between them.  He kicked the chair out of the way and she reared back to slap him.  In the scuffle, she managed to kick his shin with bare feet, hurting both of them in the process.  He grabbed her wrists, her heart pounding wildly through them, and drew her to him to growl in her face.  Paling, eyes wide, she instinctively tilted her head down and to the side in submission, only to stop with a wince when the fresh wound complained.

           “I’ll allow you your temper tantrum, but if you try to hit me again, I will turn you over my knee and spank you until you can’t sit.”  He filled his voice with every ounce of his will.  Through their connection, he felt fear, swiftly turning to anger, followed by arousal at his threat, and then confusion and shame at her reaction.  Finally, her despair choked him.  Isaiah cupped her chin and forced her to look him in the eye.  Tiny shoulders squared and she levelled a challenging glare at him in an attempt to hide her agonizing vulnerability.  “Now, will you let me explain?”

           “You had every chance to do that, but evidently my opinion wasn’t necessary, so you can bite me.  Oh wait, you already did, didn’t you?” she spat bitterly.

           “I did this to protect you while you’re at your father’s,” he explained gently.  “This way I can tell if you’re in danger.”

           “So you made a permanent decision without even asking me.”  Nova pitched her voice low for fear it would break.

           “Would you have agreed to it?”

           “Obviously you don’t give a shit, so why bother asking now?” she hissed.

           “Would you have agreed?” he repeated firmly.  Reluctantly, she shook her head.  “Even if I’d told you there’s a way to break the bond, if you want?”  Distrust thrummed disturbingly in his chest.  “And no, I’m not saying that to lull you into trusting me.”

           “Stop reading my mind!” she cried and went to slap at his arm, but stopped before calling his bluff.

           “If you don’t believe me, ask Rashad.”

           “Was he the one who gave you that?”  Her smoky eyes lowered to the phenomenal bruise already forming on his cheek.

           “Yes,” he ground out.  Although it was well-deserved, and he’d been caught off-guard at the time, he didn’t like to admit to being attacked by a Beta any more than the next Alpha.

           “You allowed him to hit you?” she asked incredulously.

           “He got one in, you got two.”  He looked pointedly at the wreckage of her room.  In doing so, he took in her bare feet.  Grumbling under his breath, he picked up he little female and sat her on the bed, ignoring her squeak of protest.  He pinned her in place with a look when she moved.  Setting the chair upright, he sat in it and pulled her feet into his lap for examination.

           “Why don’t you wear shoes?” he frowned.  The only time he’d seen her wear them was when she left the house, and sometimes not even when padding around the backyard.

           “I don’t like them,” she shrugged.  He had to grin and shake his head at the thought of a woman, especially an Omega, who didn’t like shoes.

           “Then don’t break glass,” he gave her a piercing look.  Satisfied she was unharmed, he sat back, but kept a hand on the foot still in his lap.

           “Why did Rashad hit you?”  The other foot kicked absent-mindedly back and forth.

           “Because like you, he believed I acted rashly,” he confessed, pressing a thumb into her arch and she responded with a beautiful fluttering of her eyelashes he’d only seen when she was in the throes of her Heat.  “He may have been correct.”

            “Is this the same male who told me to address him as ‘sir’ and to never criticize an Alpha?” she asked wryly.

            “I might have changed my position after meeting your father,” he said dryly.  “And maybe I like the way you subconsciously submit when you say ‘sir’.”  Her jaw dropped.  She did no such thing!  She scrabbled to leap to her feet, but he held her fast.  “Look at me.”  The Alpha voice affected her as no other had.  God help her, she wanted to obey when he used it, the bastard.  She wanted to weep at how wet she was becoming, at how weak she was.  His face swam in her vision, blurred with hot tears.  The hand on her back moved to the nape of her neck in a firm grip and she relaxed, even as her throat closed up in disgust for responding so readily.

           “Shh, stop.  Don’t hate yourself for reacting to me.  Allow yourself to finally feel.”  He caught her chin to prevent hr from turning away.  Her eyes hit critical mass and the tears spilled over.  He tenderly ran a thumb over her bottom lip.  “Why do you fight your instincts to submit?”

           “Why don’t you fight your instincts to control?” she retorted.

           “I like being in control.”  The fire in his eyes and sly smile told her exactly what he wanted to be in control of right then.  She swallowed through a throat gone suddenly dry.

           “You’re torn,” he shook his head.  “Don’t try to lie.  Remember I can feel you here.”  He tapped his firm chest.

           “I want to be in charge of my own life.”

           “But it’s not your life anymore, it’s our life,” he reminded her.  “You don’t trust me to make the right decisions for us.”

           “I barely know you!” she cried.  “I might trust you if you’d ask my input!  Like whether or not I want to be bound to you for life!”

           “So far there’s been no need.  You’ve communicated your opinions and needs aptly,” he cocked a half-smirk down at her.  “And if you prefer to control, then why do you melt when I do this?”  He fisted a hand in her hair and her eyes fluttered shut, following his lead to the tiniest movements when he tilted her head to the side.  Sighing happily, she leaned bonelessly into the warm column of his body as his breath ghosted over her neck before his teeth sank into the pale flesh under her ear. 

           When she came back to her senses, the half-smirk had grown into a full one.  Repulsed with both of them, she shoved away from him, turning her back and folding her arms as she tried to get her body under control again.  Heat surged through her core like the tides, singing in tune with her instincts and the rhythm of the bond.  _Let your Alpha take care of you.  In all things there is balance.  There is no shame in following your nature_ , it whispered to her.

           “What are you so afraid of?” he asked softly when he felt her stiffen.

           “I don’t want to be weak,” she bit out each word as though it personally offended her.  Sterling stared in surprise.  The little female was serious.

           “I doubt you’ve ever been weak a day in your life,” he snorted.  She turned her head slightly towards him, but otherwise her hard expression didn’t soften.  “That level of trust requires a great strength of character.”  She huffed in scorn, then squeaked when he spun her to face him.  “Stop listening with your head, God knows you’ve lived in it long enough, and start listening here.”  He trapped her breastbone where she felt the bond the strongest.  “I know that you think that being strong means complete independence.  It was not my intention to keep you here against your will, nor to make you feel that way.  But strength comes in many forms.  Sometimes that means accepting change, even if it wasn’t something you thought you would have wanted before.  If I wanted you here against your will, would I have gotten you that contraceptive?”

           That one simple question sent her reeling.  When the Beta brought her the After Heat pill, she assumed he did it without informing Sterling.  She hadn’t asked, swallowed the dug and tried not to think about it or the events that necessitated it.

           “I would have thought you’d want pups,” she said in a tiny voice, smoothing the folds of his slate-grey cashmere sweater.

           “There will be plenty of time to have children later.”  Hands stilling, she gaped up at him.  He was serious.

           “What if I don’t want kids?” she cried.

           “All Omegas want kids.”  He almost regretted riling her up when her eyes narrowed shrewdly, boring into him.  Apparently, Omegas could channel Alpha tendencies, or at least this one could.

          “It might have escaped your notice that I’m not brainwashed like other Omegas!”  She threw her hands in the air, narrowly missing his nose with her gesticulation.  “You didn’t even think to ask me, you just assumed!  Like you do everything!”

           “Do you want children?” he asked patiently.

           “Well, yes, but that’s not the point,” she sputtered.  “But I want to be more than just my dynamic.  As much as I want children, I want something that’s only for me.  I don’t want to be kept in this house for the rest of my life, I want to see the outside world.”  She’d never expressed this wish to her aunt, not wanting to burden her further with something that could never happen.  Simply thinking about it brought too much pain when she could never leave her hermitage.  If she’d ever wanted the mate, white picket fence, and 2.5 pups dream she’d long ago realized that was never an option.

          “Come back to me.”  He nipped at her neck, sending delicious shivers through her, curling around her nipples and swirling through her womb.  “Hm, physical stimulation can prevent episode.  Interesting,” he purred.  She squirmed with embarrassment.  No doubt he could smell her faint arousal and feel her damp heat pressed against his thigh.

            “I want children,” she quietly admitted.  “But…”

           “You’re uncertain whether it stems from your dynamic’s instincts, biological imperative, or what you want as an individual?”  She managed a slight nod.  One hand stroked her leg and the other rubbed slow circles on her lower back.  “Or maybe it’s because you lost your parents so young, and due to your isolation, you long for a family of your own?  Ultimately, your motivation doesn’t matter.”  Her head whipped to glare at him, eyes flashing like newly minted dimes.  “It is what you want, what we want.  There’s plenty of time to think about it until we’re ready.”

            “Then why the autocratic attitude?” she asked, relaxing into his ministrations.

            “Why the indignation?”  She blinked, not knowing how to answer.  “Do you truly believe I would keep you locked up here, barefoot and pregnant?”  He ran a finger teasingly along the arch of her bare foot, eliciting a strangely erotic thrill at the gentle caress.

            “I don’t know you well enough to assume otherwise,” she muttered, unable to look at him.

            “You haven’t given me a chance.”

           “How am I supposed to trust you?  You won’t even let me go so we can have a normal conversation.”  He removed the warm weight of his arms and sprawled them across the arms of the chair, arching a challenging eyebrow at her.  Biting her lip, she fidgeted, but didn’t hop off of him.  Instead, she wanted to be held again.  She’d never realized how good cuddling felt and she couldn’t get enough.  She wanted to soak it up like rain in the desert.  He chuckled lightly at her confusion, her stiff form only loosening when he pulled her to his chest with a slight purr.  Yet she still smelled upset.

           “You’re touch starved, and you castigate yourself for wanting to be close to an Alpha because you think you shouldn’t want it, because you convinced yourself you could never have that.”  He combed a large hand through her hair and she leaned into the caress, humming forlornly.  “The bond need not be permanent.”  She started at the rough growl of his voice.

           “How is that possible?” she pulled back to stare at him incredulously until realization dawned.  “Fucking Alphas.”  She shook her head in a mix of weary resignation and bitter anger.  “Why would you do that?  Why tell me?”  Sighing heavily, he cupped her face in his hands and looked deep into her eyes, wide with lust and cautious openness.  God, he wanted to guard that vulnerability, even if she wanted to throttle him for it.

           “Because once this is all over I care enough to respect your decision.  Please understand that I panicked at the thought of you being alone with that man without any sort of protection,” he admitted, stroking her cheekbones with his thumbs.  “I’d rather you go back to your farm and hate me than lose you.”

           “Well, I guess you’re not so bad compared to my murdering sire and his psycho buddies who kidnapped me for auction,” she said with a crooked, perhaps a touch watery, smile.  “Hell, Mating you might not be so bad if it means I can put his ass behind bars.”

           “Is that the only reason you’re okay with this?” he asked cautiously.

           “We’ve known each other for a week.  Yes, you’re a good provider, and I’m pretty sure I’m safe with you.  But I am _not_ ‘okay’ with this because you didn’t even ask.  You did what you wanted to.  What’s done is done and we’ll deal with this after.”  Sterling supposed that was the best he could have hoped for.  Though he still wanted to keep her safe behind these walls, he would be condemning her to continued isolation and ultimately be no better than the Alpha who created her.  The thought of watching her walk away from him made his inner Alpha teeter on the brink of feral, but he loved her enough to let her make her own path.  Even if it didn’t include him.


	14. Strychnine in the Soup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My hubby’s finally off of 12 hour night shifts so I actually get to see him again! Next weekend’s an SCA event, which I may or may not be attending/teaching at. The weekend after that, we have a weekend getaway for my birthday at a hot springs spa.
> 
> In other words, I have a life again! Please don’t expect any writing any time soon.

            Nova’s mouth was filled with a bitter metallic taste the day she was to enter the lion’s den.  Her natural perfume soured along with her mood, filling the house with her anxiety until she finally took herself to the garden. She sat underneath a maple tree, twirling one of its twinned seed pods between her fingers.

            Isaiah had been torn between going to work to avoid any confrontation when the time came and waiting with her.  Finally, she’d shoved him (well, tried to, anyway) out the door, which he only allowed her to do after he’d thoroughly scented her.  She knew he’d feed off her distress and his anger would only upset her more.  Round and around they would spiral, like binary stars, until an altercation was inevitable.  And an assault charge would only do their case harm.

            “Their” case.  It was strange to think in terms of the plural again.  She’d just finally gotten accustomed to thinking of herself as alone after her aunt’s passing, instead of the ubiquitous “we” since the two of them were rarely apart for long.  Her world had had grown exponentially.

            With a heavy sigh, she leaned her head back against the ridged trunk and closed her eyes.  Would he try and mate her off right away?  Would he put the screws to her about her memories, about why her aunt had hidden her away?  What if he interrogated her about Isaiah?  She shuddered at the thought of her sire demanding to know if her mate had knotted her.  After all, an Omegas value was largely contingent upon their virtue.  Now she was mated and mounted and all but worthless.  Would he take his frustration out on her?

            A shadow fell across her face and darkened the dim glow behind her eyelids.  Sighing again, she cracked them to find Rashad standing in front of her with a hand extended.

            “How many times has he called?” she asked as he hauled her easily to her feet.

            “Seven and texted nearly twice that.”  He picked another seedpod out of her hair and tossed it up in the air.  They watched it swirl down to the ground.  “You have your phone?”

            Nodding, she subconsciously touched her skirt where the device sat heavy in her pocket.  She had no intention of letting it out of her sight for long and the longer St. Denis didn’t know about it, the better.  While she expected her things to be searched, she didn’t anticipate being patted down.

            The Beta escorted her around the house after retrieving her shoes from the patio and ensuring that she put them on.  She was grateful because her mind was anywhere else but on her attire, and running around barefoot would only add more fodder to her father’s petition if he claimed that she wasn’t being properly cared for.

            Getting one final eyeroll in, she plastered a smile on her face and took his offered arm as they came around the corner.  A freaking limo sat in the driveway.  And St. Denis stood beside it.  Evidently her sperm donor wanted to dazzle her with his wealth, and said as much under her breath.

            “Keep your head down, kiddo, I know that’ll be hard…” he whispered to her while the Alpha opened his arms, expecting a hug.  The false smile was faltering as she approached him.  The last few steps felt more like miles.  While she hadn’t received hugs from very many people, this was the by far the most awkward one she’d ever experienced.  He didn’t bother leaning down so her face was pressed against his breastbone and she remained stiff, keeping her arms tight to her sides, her hands barely brushing his sides.  She flashed a genuine smile to Rashad before she was handed into the limousine.  St. Denis slid in after her and then they were sealed in.

            He started off the small talk in what was possibly the most embarrassing way possible: asking about her health.  _Of course, no one wanted an unhealthy brood mare,_ she mentally snorted.  Threaded through his questions were sly implications that he was merely concerned because there was no possible way her aunt, who’d been a Beta and a woman, could have provided properly for her.  And Nova couldn’t have helped her since she was a useless Omega.

            “Was Sterling there during your cycle?”  Nope, that was infinitely more mortifying.

            “Of course,” she batted her eyelashes, which hid her mask slipping at the audacity.  “He’s my mate!”

            “Not for long,” he muttered and patted her hand reassuringly.  She tried to shift so that the pocket with the phone was farther away from him.  “We’ll find you a much more suitable mate, dear.”

            “But I’m mated,” she feigned confusion to the best of her ability. 

            “There are ways around that,” he flashed what he probably thought was a reassuring, fatherly smile.  With those cold, dead eyes, he more closely resembled a shark baring its teeth to consume prey.  The sense of security she’d felt knowing she couldn’t be forced into an arranged mating while bound, no matter how temporarily, to Isaiah dissipated like fog in the midday sun.  Without that safety blanket, she was left feeling cold and very, very alone.

            “Wh-what would that entail?”  She had to force the words out of a mouth that didn’t want to work properly now that it had gone dry.

            “Don’t worry about that for now.”  His soothing tone only managed to raise her hackles, but Nova nodded and pretended to have confidence in him.  She pried her lips open into a weak smile in return.  The arrogant bastard accepted it as his due.  She swallowed back bile.  “How does dinner at the West sound?  Oh, you wouldn’t know, but you’ll love it.”

            “That sounds,” _pretentious_ , “wonderful.”

            The restaurant was exactly as she’d expected.  Rows of tiny tables filled the narrow space, and nearly every one was occupied, save one.  The host (Maître d'?) ushered them to their seats, which stood out like a beacon in the mass of bodies.  She didn’t like being surrounded by so many strangers.  The last time that happened it hadn’t ended well for her.

            Some more stilted conversation over the menu.  Thankfully, the layout of the restaurant and ambient noise was not conducive to an intimate tête-à-tête situated as they were in the centre.  What on earth was parsnip agnolotti?  He ordered for her without her input.  Steak and potatoes for him and wild salmon with beetroot and kale for her, none of which sounded appetizing.  Not that she was likely to be able to keep it down.

            Silently picking at her own meal, a warmth bloomed in her chest to slowly thaw her from the inside where she felt the link to Isaiah the strongest.  Some of the knots in her middle eased enough that she managed to eat a few bites.

            “You grew up very pretty,” he leaned back in his chair to look her up and down.  “You could be beautiful if you lost some weight.”  She had to bite her tongue bloody to refrain from pointing out the logical fallacy of her aunt being simultaneously unable to provide for her and her allegedly overweight state.  It was too late to slip poison into his food.  There was always tomorrow, although she believed she would actually hurl at the thought of spending one more day playing simpering Omega.  She needed to get the evidence and return to Isaiah before she smothered her sire in his sleep.


	15. [Insert poop emoji here]

            St. Denis’ condo was about as warm and charming as the man himself.  He gave Nova a cursory tour while giving instruction as to his preferences on cleaning and tidying.  She managed to swallow all her snide remarks with a small, tight smile before she could excuse herself with a light quip about beauty sleep.  She nearly gagged on the words.

            It was clear that St. Denis had no clue what an unattached Omega did in their spare time.  Her bedroom was nice, albeit decorated in pastels and frothy lace that set her teeth on edge.  He’d obviously hired a decorator to recreate a spread for Omegas from some interior design publication.  The fairy lights entwined with the gauzy curtains surrounding the bed and the stuffed animals tucked around the room seemed more appropriate to an eight-year-old than an adult.  Although the stuffed unicorn splayed atop one of the many pillows mounded on the bed was pretty cute.  He’d scented a few of the toys.  Those were shoved in the back of a drawer.  She plopped the unicorn down next to her pillow.

            Once the offending items were hidden away, she beelined for the e-book and tablet laid out on the nightstand.  Flipping through them, she quickly discovered they were full of anemic romance novels (without the smut, what was the point?) and games like Candy Crush.  There was also a parental controls app installed.  There was no hope of sending so much as an email without it being read.  She resigned herself to playing the games until she felt mindless enough to sleep.  Mercifully, instead of nightmares, she dreamt of riding a unicorn through fantastical worlds made entirely of candy.

* * *

 

            The same grey fog that swallowed her whole the month following her aunt Lillian’s death settled around Nova again when she woke.  Immersed in his scent, flashes of associated memories barraged her.  The emotional fallout of seeing him again, living with him, no matter how temporarily, was something for which she could not have prepared herself.  The ache of old pain would probably have been tolerable if not for the deep, dark hole in her chest.  Their combined weight was too heavy to drag herself out from under.

            One hand curled around her small cellphone.  The cotton candy pink case with rose gold trim was classy, but hardly her style.  It was the only tangible reminder she had that she wasn’t alone, that there were people out there who knew she existed.  She felt as if she held onto this anchor, she wouldn’t disappear.  After a while, she noticed that a tiny blue light blinked at her.  She held it carefully under the covers to unlock the screen.  While she hadn’t found any cameras in her room, there were plenty discreetly placed in the other areas of the house, she wasn’t taking the risk.

Asshole Alpha (10:34): _What’s wrong?_

            Was it childish to program Isaiah’s number into her contacts that way?  Probably.  She told herself that it was in case St. Denis found the device, that way she could maintain the illusion that she hated the Alpha.  While she didn’t hate him, she didn’t get warm fuzzies when she thought of him.  A weird sort of twisting in her gut, yes, but there was too much going on for her to untangle that Gordian knot of emotions. 

And Isaiah must have sensed this, as well as her depression, through their fragile new bond.  Her thumbs hovered over the keys as she deliberated on a response.  Denial wouldn’t solve anything, and the thought of attempting to mislead him didn’t sit well with her.  _His smell.  It’s getting to me is all_.

(10:36) _Open the inner compartment of your purse_.  The bag was on the dresser where she’d dropped it the night before.  She hadn’t opened it other than to reapply lipstick after dinner.  She didn’t care about appearances; the trip to the washroom provided a welcome reprieve from her father.  Inside the zippered pocket was a Ziploc bag containing a bit of white cloth neatly folded.  Isaiah’s scent curled around her when she opened the plastic bag and pulled out the item.  It was a handkerchief that he’d scented.

(10:40) _What if he finds it?_   Rashad had taught her a trick of packing her things so that she could tell if someone had been through them.  And someone certainly had.  There was no guarantee that a search wouldn’t happen again.

(10:41) _It’s in case of Omega drop_.  In times of extreme stress, Omegas were known to essentially shut down, mentally and physically.  The presence of their Alphas could bring them out of it, but if that wasn’t possible, their scent was the next best thing.  She carefully refolded the handkerchief along the crisp lines and sealed it up again.

(10:43) _Did you think that I’d fall apart without you?_   There weren’t enough angry emojis in the world to convey her true sentiment, but they were rendered unnecessary by the bond.  That ire propelled her out of bed and to get dressed.  If she was going to be filled with energy from the pent-up anger, she might as well put it to good use.

(10:50) _No, but the bond is barely formed, and you’ve had a lot to bear.  Especially recently.  Since you’re essentially alone, I tried to anticipate every possibility_.  That mollified her somewhat, but she wasn’t ready to let go of her vexation quite yet.  She took it out on the apartment instead, starting with the kitchen, like a good little Omega. 

* * *

 

            Sterling was in the middle of a teleconference when he felt it.  He’d not gone into the office.  How could he when it felt like razors slicing through his chest every moment she was away from him, where he couldn’t protect her.  His employees didn’t deserve his piss poor mood nor the accompanying stench of angry Alpha.

            One of his executives was extolling the economic virtues of the proposed Kinder Morgan pipeline when the oppressive fugue wrapped around him.  In a matter of moments all colour drained from the world around him and cotton filled his ears to dull the disembodied words spilling from the speaker.  Normally he’d welcome anything that would silence the Beta, but not this, knowing whence it came and what it meant.

            “We’ve been over this before, Chandra,” he cut her off as his thumbs flew over his phone.  _What’s wrong?_   “The inevitability of a spill, the cleanup, environmental consequences, and the subsequent decline in the public eye completely negate any benefits.  Unless you have any new projects to discuss, there’s no point in continuing this discussion.”  Although he felt numb, enough annoyance tinged his voice to convince the other attendees listening in that protestations were not in their best interests.  But within a few hours he could expect another proposal waiting in his inbox.

            Setting the phone where he could clearly see a response, he opened a couple of reports comparing cost-benefit ratios between a wind farm near Fort St. John and tidal turbines in one of the many fjords along the coastline.  While he was perfectly capable of compartmentalizing his emotions and his higher mental functions, training had sharpened his natural self-discipline; he wanted to put his fist through the spreadsheets on his screen because of how damn helpless he felt.

(10:35) _His smell.  It’s getting to me is all_.  Isaiah didn’t realize he’d been grinding his teeth until his jaw began to ache.  If he could, he would thoroughly scent her and keep her where she’d never have to smell her sire again.  Taking a deep calming breath because while he didn’t like her feeling numb in her depression and anxiety, replacing it with rage wouldn’t help her.  He offered the only possible solution he could provide and tried to soothe her concerns.  Maybe a smiley?

(10:43) _Did you think that I’d fall apart without you?_   Despite his best efforts, their link flared to life with red hot anger.  In retrospect, he should have expected Nova to misinterpret the intentions behind the gesture.  How did he explain how powerless he felt to protect her?  How he felt a failure as her Alpha and wanted to support her as much as possible from afar?  He stared unseeing at the reports while his mind churned away at putting his thoughts into words that wouldn’t reveal her true goal if read by anyone other than her.

(10:50) _No, but the bond is barely formed, and you’ve had a lot to bear.  Especially recently.  Since you’re essentially alone, I tried to anticipate every possibility_.  He snorted at the trite words.  Half of what she’d had to endure lately was due to him.  With her natural perfume already starting to fade from the house, without the sight of her in all her vibrancy or the feel of her soft, small body, he truly understood how poorly he’d treated her in the beginning because of his own insecurities.

            When she didn’t immediately reply, he wanted to retreat to the gym to take out the self-recriminations and frustrations on a punching bag, but there he couldn’t keep his phone within easy reach.  The wrath surged back and forth between their bond like the force of the tides.  At some point he reached the bargaining stage because he thought of everything that he’d sacrifice if she was back safe in his arms.

            Her response seemed to take an age, but when it finally came, the brief text managed to allay much of his fears for her well-being and their relationship.

(11:27) _Thank you, Alpha_.


	16. No touchy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't understand the quotes, they're from Emperor's New Groove. Just know that they're huge dorks.
> 
> Warning for narcissistic parent and mention of abortion.

Nova’s sperm donor had helpfully sent a list of chores to her tablet as well as the time he would arrive home for dinner, which she was expected to cook, of course.  At least that was the catalyst that helped burn through the vestiges of her depression.

Her cleaning frenzy eventually brought her to St. Denis’ study.  Although he hadn’t included it on the tour other than to gesture vaguely at it, the door stood open.  The office was even larger than the room she was staying in and reeked heavily of the Alpha. Isaiah spent a fair amount of time in his own study, but it wasn’t as saturated with his pheromones.  Thankfully the cleansers she’d found under the kitchen sink contained scent neutralizers, and she used them with extreme prejudice.

Testing the file cabinets while oiling the wood, she discovered one was locked.  Making a mental note of which one, she continued. Other than that, there was very little in the spartan room of interest to her purpose.  If he kept anything on his computer, she didn’t have a snowball’s chance of guessing the password. And if CSIS couldn’t find any evidence on it, assuming that the feds had the ability to remotely hack his devices, then what hope did she have?

Spending several hours without interacting with another person was normal for Nova.  But now being trapped inside the vacant flat began to grate on her. Not even the music she played over the sound system that piped into every room, including the bathroom, could fill the emptiness. There were no curses from Rashad playing his games, or singing and sashaying around the kitchen as he cooked.  Isaiah was far quieter in comparison, defying all stereotypes of his dynamic, although he laughed readily when he managed to relax. He was like a rock. Her rock. Shaking her head free of those silly thoughts, she planned her text carefully.

(4:23):  _ Found a secret cache.  Don’t have a code. Can you recommend a good cheat or walkthrough? _  There.  Hopefully if it was discovered, he’d think she was talking about video games. 

R (4:24)  _ When in doubt, smash it with a hammer _ .  The corners of her mouth kicked up, but it wasn’t a solution, even if she could find one.

(4:24)  _ Ha ha, Yzma.   _ Eye-roll emoji.

R (4:25)  _ I have been known to rock a feather boa.  But I’m Kronk, if anything.  _ She actually snorted at that.

(4:25)  _ Goofy sidekick? _

R (4:26)  _ See if I ever make you crepes again _ .  She could readily imagine the look of faux indignation on his face.

(4:27)  _ I never liked your spinach puffs.  How’s the asshole? _

R (4:27)  _ Hasn’t slept.   _ And didn’t that just open a Pandora’s box of emotions inside her chest.  With a heavy sigh, she started to scrub a hand over her face, but stopped when the faint hint of cleanser hit her nose.  The chemicals churned her stomach, which was a timely reminder.

(4:28)  _ Uh, I gotta have dinner ready in an hour.  Help?  _ Angel face.

R (4:29)  _ Still think I’m a goofy sidekick?   _ Followed by a devil face.

(4:29)  _ I don’t make deals with peasants!   _ Winky face.

R (4:30)  _ Ok, what’s in the kitchen? _

(4:34)  _ Oranges, soy milk, steak, gluten-free noodles, brown rice, coconut water, beets, kale, couscous, and whatever this is. _  She sent a photo.

R (4:35)  _ That’s Romanesco, cross between broccoli and cauliflower.  How’d you manage to survive on your own? _

(4:36)  _ A) We had goats.  Not even sure how you’d milk a soybean.  B) We didn’t eat a lot of red meat, unless you count deer.  And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t consider any non-carnivorous meal “real” food. _

Rashad responded with rapid fire directions that made her wonder if he was using a text to speech app.  She scurried about grabbing ingredients and prepping while more instructions steadily streamed in.

R (4:45)  _ Pro-tip: pre-eat.   _ That’d let her maintain the illusion of the dainty Omega starving themselves, as if being underweight didn’t present serious health problems.  But appearances were the only thing that mattered to Alphas like that.

(4:45)  _ I owe you a batch of my infamous snickerdoodles. _

R (4:46)  _ Infamous?  I’m not sure if that’s a thank you or not. _

(4:47)  _ As long as I use sugar and not salt this time… _

* * *

 

Nova (4:47)  _ You are more bitter than sweet _ .  Winky face with a tongue.  Rashad smirked down at his phone.  He wished that he could text her throughout dinner to keep her from stabbing St. Denis with a dessert knife, if she even knew what that was.

“How is she?”  Isaiah’s voice was raspy as if from disuse.

“Hmm, she called me a peasant, so I’d say fairly well.”  He cocked a grin and set his phone aside to tend to the rice.  Helping Nova plan her meal had given him his own ideas. “How’d you know it was her?”

“The look of fond exasperation,” he muttered and grabbed a beer from the fridge, popping the cap off with a plain titanium ring on his right hand.  The band was one of the few accessories he wore regularly, changing which hand he adorned after Lyssa’s death.

The phone lit up with a picture of the beet, kale, and couscous salad with citrus dressing.   _ Tastes horrible, but it looks pretty.  He should love it _ .  Rashad snickered at the subtle jab.  The Alpha arched a brow in question and Rashad nudged his phone towards Sterling, who snorted a chuckle and took another drink.

For a few minutes the kitchen was filled with the sounds of cooking, although muted due to the gloom radiating off Isaiah like a dark cloud.  Rashad let him stew in his mood for a little while longer.

“She asked about you,” he said casually.

“What’d you tell her?”  He turned from the window where he’d staring, unseeing, out at the garden.  He gripped the longneck in his hand so tightly that Rashad feared it might break.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” he shrugged. 

“Why’d you tell her that?” demanded Sterling.  Rashad swore he heard the glass bottle creak in protest under the abuse.

“It’s the truth, and I won’t lie to her,” he replied calmly as he tapped out a text.   _ The poison.  The poison for Kuzco.  Kuzco’s poison _ .  Too bad there wasn’t a way to actually turn her father into a llama.  Or better yet, a flea. He smiled and imagined Nova enthusiastically smashing said flea with a giant Acme-brand hammer that squeaked.

“You can take the truth and tie it up in knots without ever lying,” he scoffed.

“Fine, call it honesty.”  He shrugged. “She needs someone she can trust and won’t bullshit her.”  Few people could meet Isaiah’s eyes in blatant challenge without provoking him; Rashad was the president of that club.

“And you think I’m bullshitting her?” he growled.

“I think that she doesn’t know who to trust.”  He had to tread carefully because the room was filling with the smell of angry Alpha again, overpowering the aroma of cooking.  “I don’t think that she’s had a friend for a very long time, and she could really use one right now.”

“I don’t count?” he ground out, setting his beer on the island.  The Beta’s shoulders relaxed. Stitches wouldn’t improve the Alpha’s state of mind any, nor Nova’s when the pain inevitably traveled through the bond and gave St. Denis more ammunition to use against Sterling in court to boot.

“You’re her Alpha, it’s a bit more complicated than that,” Rashad pointed out.  His phone lit up with a picture of a nova forming in another galaxy and a text notification.

Nova (5:28)  _ We’re about to go over a huge waterfall.  With sharp rocks at the bottom. _

(5:28)   _ Bring it on!!! _

“What…?” asked Isaiah, coming around to read over his shoulder.

“Pop culture references.”  He smirked as his friend’s face crinkled in bemusement.  “It means her sire’s home and he expected her to cook dinner.”

“He what?” barked Sterling.  The smell of burnt garlic seared Rashad’s nose, a sure sign that the Alpha was livid.  He scrubbed at it with his shirtsleeve to get the unpleasant tingling and stench out, and to wipe away the tears that spilled from his watering eyes.  “The son of a bitch hasn’t seen his daughter in over fifteen years and he’s treating her like a goddamn servant?” Rashad considered pointing out that Isaiah employed his closest friend in the same capacity, but knew better than to push him right now, even in jest.

“She’s fine,” the Beta reassured him.  “She-”

“You don’t know that!” he snarled and slammed a hand down on the counter, which protested the abuse with an alarming creak.

“Check the bond.”

“What?” he blinked.  Sometimes, throwing an Alpha off-balance could bring them back from the edge of going feral; other times it tipped them over.

“You can sense what she’s feeling, check on her.”

With another grumble, Sterling closed his eyes.  Rashad fought the instinct to keep a careful watch on the angry Alpha; treating him like a potential threat was not the way to deal with him.  After a minute or two, the angry pheromones he was throwing off eased. Several moments after that, Isaiah’s fists unclenched and he opened his eyes.

“You’re right,” he rumbled, taking a swig of his beer.  Rashad threw him a saucy wink that had him shaking his head, but a corner of his mouth kicked up.  The half smile quickly died. “She wasn’t well this morning.”

“That was to be expected,” said Rashad, not unsympathetically.

“It was bad.”  Sterling leaned against the island and picked at the label on his bottle with a thumb.

“Catatonia?” he frowned.

“I think so.”  Rashad muttered a curse.

“There’s good news, though.”  Isaiah straightened from his slump.  Rashad swore that if the other man could, his ears would be swiveled towards him.  “She’s found something.”

“And you didn’t lead with that?” he exclaimed.

“You needed to bitch first.”  Sterling scoffed and rolled his eyes, but didn’t refute the assertion.  “Come, I'll tell you while we eat.”

“I'm not hungry.  Tell me now.”

“I will not.”  He continued before Isaiah could draw breath to argue, “You haven't eaten all day and pretty soon you'll start draining her of energy.  She can hardly eat enough right now to make up the deficit. Therefore you're going to park your overgrown butt right there and listen while you stuff your face.”  The Alpha glared, but complied after a minute. After all, his pride wouldn't allow him to jump at a Beta’s order.

“I thought you were supposed to follow me, not the other way around,” he grumbled. 

“I safeguard you, even if it's against yourself,” he waggled a wooden spoon, a few drops of peanut sauce spattered on the counter.  “And if you don't start remembering that other dynamics aren't doormats, I'll help her hide the body.”

* * *

Nova was seriously considering “accidentally” cutting herself with a knife because a night in the emergency room had to be better than the dinner from hell.  But St. Denis would most likely scold her for bleeding all over the place and the inconvenience. Just as he had for cooking the steak medium-rare instead of rare, as if she was supposed to remember from when she was seven years old how he liked his meat.  

“Why didn’t you do your hair?” he asked.   _ Be glad I showered and dressed!  _ she mentally snapped.

“I didn’t?”  She touched a hand to her hair as though she’d forgotten.  It was in a low ponytail to keep it out of her face as she worked.  Even if she knew how to do makeup (he’d already commented on the lack thereof, which she’d played as if she hadn’t found it in her ensuite), she was not about to go all out just for a few hours with someone she’d rather see six feet under.  “I must’ve spaced it.” She ground her jaw again behind a smile that was really more a baring of teeth than anything.

“You should have been in finishing school instead of playing in the dirt.”  There wasn’t anything she could say to that, or at least nothing she should say, so she remained silent.  “I’ll have to contact Ms. Woodham’s about registration.” She only had a vague idea of what a finishing school was and it involved balancing books on one’s head.  In her opinion, running a farm was a far better education than learning how to walk gracefully.

“I suppose he didn’t ensure you have a proper wardrobe, leaving me to foot the bill.  Although, if Tamara hadn’t kidnapped you all this hassle would have been dealt with already.”  He paused for breath and tossed his napkin on his empty plate.

“Allow me,” murmured Nova, reaching for his plate.  The bastard didn’t even say thank you, merely nodded at her.  “I’ll be right back with dessert.” If he had any more criticisms she’d dump the fruit salad on his head, and she needed him to continue to disregard her.

Returning with two bowls, his nose wrinkled slightly in apparent disgust.  It was a familiar expression, the same one he wore whenever he saw a bandaid on her knee, or had a smudge of paint on her hands, or she had just lost a tooth.  It was the face she saw whenever she thought of him.

She gritted her teeth until she feared she’d crack a molar; instead of punching him, she reached for the wine.  One glass was not enough to get her through this torture. His hand shot out to cover the rim before she could refill it.  She set the bottle back down and allowed herself a daydream of smashing it over his head.

“Alcohol can affect fertility,” he shook his head and went back to eating.   _ Right, mustn’t do anything to risk your broodmare cum cash cow _ .  Fear slithered down her spine.  Oh shit, what if she was pregnant?  Cold sweat seeped out of every pore.

“It’ll be all right.”  He patted her hand, misinterpreting her fear.  She flashed him a weak smile in hopes he would stop touching her even as her mind sped through the implications.

If she was knocked up, she was irrevocably tied to Isaiah.  By law, an Omega couldn’t terminate a pregnancy without written authorization from their Alpha, who was usually the father.  No Alpha would allow their child to be aborted; the instincts to protect their family was usually too strong in that dynamic.  Obviously, some Alphas were deficient. But if Sterling wasn’t her Alpha, his consent wouldn’t be necessary.


	17. Update

My asshole in law has been given a year to live, give or take 6 months, so updates will be ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	18. Spy Games

Nova nearly jumped out of her skin when she emerged from her room and found a man in the hallway.  His back was to her and he didn’t appear to have heard her. She was torn between locking herself in the bathroom (her bedroom door lacked a lock) and calling 911 or confronting him.  He must have caught her from the corner of his eye because he turned around.

“Rashad!”  The name began as a shout and ended in a strangled whisper as she flung herself at him in a hug.  It felt like an eternity since she last saw her friend, yet she’d only been there a few days. Then again, if time flew while you’re having fun, then it oozed like maple syrup in the dead of winter when you’re in hell.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” she demanded in a rough whisper, pulling back to look at him as he set her back down on her feet.

“And spoil the surprise?” he winked.  “Why are we whispering?”

“I don’t know.”

“How are you?”  He scrutinized her face, arching a brow as she thought of a white lie.  It was eerie, like he was reading her mind.

“If he opens his mouth one more time I might just stab him in his sleep,” she muttered, folding her arms.  “When I get back home, I’m getting shit-faced and forgetting this ever happened before I wind up traumatized for life.  Why are you smiling like that?”

“Because you called it ‘home’,” he grinned like the cat who ate the canary.  Nova scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“What’re you doing here?  He’ll be back in a couple of hours.  You should leave before your scent settles in. I might be able to cover it up with some of that deodorizer…” she trailed off as her nose caught up with her mouth.  “I can’t smell you! Why can’t I smell you?” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” he smirked.

“How did you even get in here?” she frowned up at him.

“I plead the fifth.”  Rashad’s long, dark eyelashes fluttered, an affectation which had probably won him more than one date.

“This is Canada, that doesn’t apply here.”  Her light grey eyes rolled at his Cheshire-like expression.  “Fine. Are you here to get into that filing cabinet?” Without waiting for a response, she led him to the office.

“You’re full of questions today.”

“I’ve been going stir-crazy,” she groused, pointing to the cabinet in question.  “I don’t know how you cook and clean all the time without killing someone.”

“Why do you think I play video games?” he tossed over his shoulder and knelt to peer at the shallow groove that served as a drawer pull.  From a pocket he pulled a leather case that looked like it held sunglasses. Unzipping it, he unrolled a set of flaps to reveal a series of metal tools with squiggly tips and some with hooks.

“Are those lockpicks?”  Her eyebrows climbed into her hairline.  “Rashad, what’ve you not been telling me?”

“Sweetheart, the things I know that you don’t could fill the void where your father’s heart and soul should be, and probably a few other organs,” he snorted and knelt in front of the drawer.  Nova wandered over to search the desk again. “How did you get in here, anyway? Judging by the door, he usually keeps this room locked.”

“He wanted me to clean in here, probably assumed I wouldn’t know what I was looking at even if I found something,” she growled and slammed a drawer shut.  “Speaking of autocratic assholes, how did you and Isaiah meet?”

“That is a story that requires a good bottle of wine and far more time than we have,” murmured Rashad, focused on his work.

“Hey, I think I found something!”  Nova fished a thumb drive from the desk and held it up.

“Here.”  He fished one hand into his pocket and tossed something to her, which she caught in both hands.  “Plug it into that and it’ll copy whatever’s on it.”

“What are we going to do if we don’t find anything?  I’m not sure if I can wait long enough for a custody hearing.  ‘Custody’,” she snorted, slotting the drive into the black plastic device, which looked like a thumb drive on steroids.  An LED blinked yellow. “Like I’m a fucking child.”

“You did throw a tantrum and there’s a dent in the wall to prove it,” he reminded her dryly.  Before she could come up with a retort, he exclaimed, “Aha!” The drawer slid open to reveal overflowing file folders.  They looked at each other and then the papers crammed in it. “How long do we have again?”

“A little over two hours.”  The LED turned green and she returned the driver to where she found it.

“Well, grab your phone and start taking pictures,” he sighed and pulled a small camera from the other pocket.

Half an hour later, they had the task down to a routine.  He would pull the sheet, she’d take the photograph, then he’d take the sheet and they would start all over.  It allowed for the quickest way to make sure everything went back as they’d found it.

“You didn’t answer my question,” said Nova.

“Hm?”

“What are we going to do if these are all just old bills?  Why would he even use paper anyway?”

“Hard copies don’t fall under email subpoenas and they can be burned.  As for the other, we’ll get you out.”

“I can’t wait that long,” she shook her head, bottom lip trembling.  Maybe they were all right and she wasn’t emotionally mature if she was going to cry again.

“Hey, talk to me,” he said, continuing to work.  “What is it?”

“W-what if I’m p-pregnant?”  She managed to get the words out without breaking down.   _ Good thing his camera has auto-stabilize _ , she thought.

“Then we’ll get you out of here,” he repeated firmly.  “Legally or not.”

“How?”  God, did she really sound that pitiful?

“I got my ass in here before you were even awake.  You’re getting really lazy as a kept Omega,” he teased.

“I will take a blowtorch to your hard drive.”

“You are mean.”  A feigned pout. “The point is the concierge is hardly a deterrent for someone with my skills.”

“You mean the  _ armed _ ‘concierge’?”  St. Denis had made sure that she knew about all the security measures designed to keep her in.

“Like I said, the things I know that you don’t,” he winked. 

“It wouldn’t work,” she sighed, even though his insouciance was lifting her mood.  “They’d just hunt me down, drag me back, and Isaiah loses custody.”

“Not if you left the country.  There are lots of other countries that don’t extradite based on custodial disputes.”

Nova jerked her head up at the nonchalant response and stared at him as he set another sheet in front of her.

“I can’t leave the country without an escort.  An Alpha.”

“Then it’s a good thing you know one of those.  Make with the snappy snappy.” He tapped the camera in her hands.

“But he lives here!  This is where he works, he has you!  Why would he give all that up for a neurotic shut-in?” she ignored him, and he took the device from her to keep working.

“You are not neurotic.  Traumatized, most likely.  Abused? Maybe. And your whole world used to consist of a few dozen acres.  Now you’re stealing cars and committing espionage; my baby’s all grown up,” sniffing, he wiped away an imaginary tear.  She laughed and lightly smacked his shoulder.

“He would give all that up,” Rashed said once they’d sobered up.  “To him, the house and the cars are just things; he could get an overseas transfer.  People are what matter to him after... If you didn’t matter to him, he would have given you over to the state.”

“But what about you?”

“You two would fall apart without me around,” he scoffed.  “I’m the Alfred to your Batman and Robin.” She did have to concede that point.

“You mean he’d do it because I might be knocked up.”  Her lips twisted like she’d bitten into a lemon, but she went back to helping him document their discovery.

“No, he would leave the ultimate decision up to you.”

“Like he did with this?”  She gestured to the still healing mark on her throat.

“You can choose to dissolve it once this is all over,” he reminded her.  Her eyes skirted to her phone lying to the side under the pretext of checking the time.  “You should come up with a short list of countries you wouldn’t mind living in, just in case we have to move fast.  I think your sire’s already suspicious of the boss.”

A chill ran through Nova that had nothing to do with the central air system.

“You don’t think he’d…?”  She broke off, unable to complete the horrible thought.  Rashad didn’t say anything, his normally full lips compressed into a grim line. 

She had come up with the plan to begin with, well aware of the risks to herself, yet any possible hazard to Isaiah had never occurred to her.  All right, if she was being completely honest with herself, some part of her had contemplated the possibility, but refused to scrutinize that too closely.  That would have meant more soul searching than she was accustomed to. But the knowledge that a dangerous Alpha would fight for her had shone a spotlight on that confusing jumble of emotions.

Nova would have to make a decision.  And soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](http://sliverofjade.tumblr.com/). Willing to Beta read.


End file.
